


Kill Me Deadly

by faithfulcat111



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Death, Knives, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, They're Not, but it can also be read as a mention to jewish people in general, but it is an au so, but not entirely accurate to the time, but there is a lot of murder, but they usually hit him back, everyone is slightly oc, i cut a lot out though, it got ridiculous, just a miscommunication on whether a character is jewish, like almost every character dies, like why aren't they running their own detective agency, logan gets violent at times, lots of inappropriate jokes, lots of shorts characters to fill in the gaps, nearly everyone has a gun, noir comedy murder mystery set in the 1940s, nothing bad, talking about death, talyn is a murder mystery genius, there is a brief mention of the holucaust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulcat111/pseuds/faithfulcat111
Summary: Logan Nickels is having a tough run as a private detective in the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles. But things are made worse by the murder of a client and the theft of his 300 karat diamond. There are many suspects from the Lord's disgruntled employees to his own children, but as they start coming up dead too, it becomes harder to ignore the possible involvement of one Roman Livingston, a night cluub singer who has captured Logan's affections... and suspicions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a based off the play Kill Me Deadly, a murder mystery noir comedy set in the 1940s. I'm not lying when I say a lot of people die on screen and off-screen. There is also lots of alcohol, guns, a literal backstabbing, and other not so nice and possibly triggering things. I tried to tag everything I could think of, but if you notice anything I didn't, please let me know so I can tag it as well.

LA was a funny place, Logan mused staring down at a checkerboard in his office. It was full of unfamiliar faces and card-carrying members of LAPD’s Bum Brigade. Full of quirky people like liquor store owners who chopped off newsboy’s thumbs and put them in pickle jars and babysitters who made necklaces out of, well, never mind. But nothing had thrown him off yet. Logan Nickels, the best PI in the county, or so he liked to think. Maybe he thought of himself as a little invincible to the cold-hearted people of the world, or he drank enough to forget. But on that day in 1947, the phone rang.  
His assistant, a young one by the name of Talyn, jumped up to answer it, “Logan Nickels office. I’m sorry, he can’t right now. It’s too late in the day to take any calls. Oh.” Talyn turned to Logan, “This one wants to speak to you. Says he’s rich.”  
“How rich?” Logan asked as he moved one of the checker pieces.  
“How rich?” Talyn repeated back into the phone. “That rich?” They turned back, “Says he’s Lord Clairmont.”  
“Millionaire widower, Lord Dee Clairmont?” Logan raised an eyebrow. When Talyn nodded, he stood up, “I’ll take the call.”

Logan stared up at the enormous front doors to the Clairmont mansion, wide enough to fit two Clydesdales through. He took a second to collect himself before hitting the doorbell. An obnoxiously long chime began to play, going on for nearly thirty seconds. As if on cue, right after the last note played, the door was opened by a man in a suit and dark pink tie. He looked Logan up and down with a raised eyebrow before asking, “Yeah?”  
“I’m here for Lord Dee. He’s expecting me,” Logan explained.  
The man rolled his eyes and started to close the door, “We’re not innersted.”  
“Look, you got the wrong idea,” Logan held out an arm, stopping the man. “I’ve got an appointment.”  
“What for?” the man snapped back.  
Logan rolled his eyes, done with this man’s attitude, “I’m the county dog catcher, and the police reported a stray poodle in the area.”  
“Wiseguy,” the man snarled, starting to close the door again.  
A voice called out from inside the mansion, stopping him, “Who is it, Magenta?”  
“It’s one o’ them door-to-door types, Lord Dee. You want I should give ‘im the what-for?” the man called back.  
“Let me lay my eyes on him first.” The man, Magenta, led Logan into a luxurious living room. Another man wearing a long, flowing black and yellow robe and holding a coconut with an umbrella poking out of the top eyed him as he entered. “Hmmmmm,” Lord Dee mused as he approached the two. “Whatever he’s selling I’ll take a year’s supply.”  
Logan rolled his eyes, “I’m Logan Nickels, Lord Dee. You said you wanted to see me.”  
“Yes, of course,” Lord Dee said with a dismissive wave. “Magenta, take Mr Nickels’ hat and coat.”  
Logan turned to the glowering man beside him, a slight smirk on his face as he handed them over, “By all means, Magenta, take my hat and coat.” Magenta growled as he took the hat and coat and left the room.  
Logan turned back to where Lord Dee had crossed the room to a table with another coconut on it, “What’s your drink, Mr Nickels?”  
“I’ll have what you’re havin’,” Logan puts simply, eager to get to the matter at hand.  
“A flaming gay Paree?”  
Logan turned to Lord Dee who was taking a long sip out of his own coconut before saying, “That’ll be fine, thanks.” Logan looked around the living room, studying artefacts lining the shelves, exquisite furniture, and regal architecture. “Nice place you got here.”  
“It better be. It’s the largest non-military structure west of the Mississip,” Lord Dee said, handing Logan his drink. “The property’s rich in history too. The guest house was built on one ancient Indian burial ground, and the tennis court was built over a second.” He went to take another drink out of his coconut and gasped, “Drat the luck! We’re out of coconuts. Make yourself at home, Mr Nickels, I’ll be right back.”  
Logan watched him leave before trying his own drink, coughing as he set it down. He started walking around, studying the plaques on the wall, when he heard a very angry voice come into the room, “Father, I swear this is the last time I ride that Lippizaner. If it were up to me…” the voice trailed off as Logan whipped around to see a young man dressed in a riding outfit and a pair of sunglasses on top of his head. The man started to grin, “You’re not Father.”  
“You’re right,” Logan said, adjusting his tie. “You ever think about becoming a P.I.?”  
“I’m Remy,” the man introduced himself, lifting the crop he was holding to rest on his shoulder. “You must be Logan NIckels. They say you’re the best private dick in the city.”  
“I’ll have to thank my publicist for that,” Logan said.  
“They also say you’re a man of low morals and high ideals,” Remy took a step closer but stumbled as he grabbed at his side.  
Logan quickly reached out to steady him, “Looks like you’ve got a hitch in your pelvis.”  
Remy pulled out of his grasp, “It’s the Lippizaner I got for Christmas. He gives, but he won’t break.”  
Logan huffed, “Maybe you ride him too hard.”  
“Maybe he’s a big boy who needs to learn a lesson,” Remy smirked.  
“Maybe he’s smart enough to teach you a thing or two.”  
“Maybe he’s a dumb buck who doesn’t know what’s good for him.”  
“Maybe he’ll get fed up and knock you on your butt.”  
“Maybe I’ll like it.”  
“Coconuts!” Remy and Logan quickly jumped apart as Lord Dee entered the room again, carrying two coconuts. “Coconuts for all! Oh, Remy, I see you’ve met Logan Nickels.” Lord Dee grinned as he set down one of the coconuts on the table.  
“I was just leaving. I’d better feed that Lippizaner. You can join me if you want, Mr Nickels, that is if you know anything about pounding hay,” Remy sauntered out of the room, leaving the other two staring after.  
Logan didn’t even realize he had done it until Lord Dee gasped, “Did you just whistle at my son?”  
Logan looked at the Lord and towards the door and back before slowly drawling, “No.” Before Lord Dee could protest, he continued, “So what’s this all about, Lord Dee?”  
“Well, as you know I’m an obscenely wealthy person,” Lord Dee said in way of explanation.  
“Yes.”  
“Obscenely,” Lord Dee emphasized. When Logan just hummed, he continued, “Really really really…”  
“Get to the point!” Logan snapped.  
“Someone’s trying to kill me,” Lord Dee sighed.  
Logan raised an eyebrow at this, “How do you know?”  
“This,” Lord Dee pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Logan before taking another sip.  
Logan took it, adjusting his glasses as he unfolded and read it, “‘I’m going to kill you.’”  
“What do you think it means?” Lord Dee asked.  
Logan rolled his eyes, “Can you think of any reason why someone would want you dead?”  
“Can’t imagine,” Lord Dee said dismissively as another young man entered the room. He muttered a quick apology as he crossed the room, a jar of peanut butter nestled tight in his arms.  
“Brian!” Lord Dee snapped. “Aren’t you going to say ‘hello’?”  
The man stopped, turning to look at Logan, his shoulders hunched over, “Hello.”  
“Oh, Brian, really!” Lord Dee held one hand up to his forehead in exasperation. “This is my other son, Mr Nickels. I like to think of him as an idiot savant. Brian, this is Logan Nickels. He’ll be working for your father.”  
“Oh, I’ve heard of Mr Nickels. His name frequently appears in the scandal sheets,” Brian stepped closer, looking up at Logan with eager eyes. “Is it true what they say about the prevalence of mar-ah-ju-wana in Hollywood? That it is no longer the domain of the itinerant jazzman?”  
Logan turned to look at Lord Dee in confusion as the man just groaned, “Please don’t bore our guest, Brian, and stand up straight. And try to walk with some confidence instead of mincing about on those little feet of yours. Did you fire Wilson as I asked?”  
Logan noticed a man with round glasses and freckles start to walk in, but upon hearing the question, turned and walked out. Neither of the other two appeared to have noticed as Brian said, “Not yet, Father.”  
“What are you waiting for?” Lord Dee demanded. “You are so craven, Brian, and lazy. And stupid. I want that man fired immediately. I will not tolerate a criminal in our midsts.”  
“All he did was make a phone call!” Brian protested.  
“A personal call while on duty,” Lord Dee waved him off.  
“He was calling the hospital. He was going into a diabetic coma because you replaced his insulin with corn syrup!” Brian shouted.  
Logan caught a faint hint of a smirk on Lord Dee’s face, “I don’t care. It is the principal of the thing. And get that peanut butter out of your mouth. You know how I hate it when you eat directly out of the jar.”  
Brian struggled to swallow the spoonful he stuck in his mouth before saying, “Now if you’re quite through, I must return to the library.”  
“Again with those confounded books,” Lord Dee rolled his eyes.  
“They’re vital to my studies, father,” Brian insisted.  
“Tired old fops with not a whit of manly vigour between them. I don’t see why you bother.” Lord Dee started to sniff, wiping at an imaginary tear, “I swear, you grate on me so, I don’t know how I could possibly stand it.”  
“Why won’t you leave me alone!” Brian screamed as he ran from the room.  
There was a slight pause as Logan stared after the young man before turning back to Lord Dee, “And you can’t think of anyone who would want you dead?”  
“Me?” Lord Dee gasped. “Nonsense! I have a heart as big as this menacing, seventy-five thousand square-foot mansion.”  
“Lord Clairmont?” a voice came from another doorway. Logan turned to see a young worker, his hat pulled low over his face.  
“Jaime!” Lord Dee exclaimed.  
“I have finished the garden by the reflecting pool as you requested.”  
“Good, now go home. You’re fired.”  
Jaime looked up, eyes wide, “Señor?”  
“That’s right, fired. So you can take your things and that little hot tamale you’ve been seen with and clear out,” Lord Dee said with a wave of his hand.  
Jaime looked behind him before turning back, “You mean my sister?”  
“Quickly now or I’ll be forced to call the police.”  
“But why, Señor, why?” Jaime pleaded.  
“Don’t think I don’t know about the petunias,” Lord Dee finally turned to Jaime with a hiss.  
“Petunias?” Jaime’s brow furrowed.  
“The other day I saw a man looking just like you selling my petunias in front of the Angelus Temple in Echo Park,” Lord Dee snarled.  
“Never, señor!” Jaime said, eyes wide again.  
“Your lying demeans us both.”  
“But señor, to be dismissed summarily like this and in such a perfunctory manner? And just one week before pleating my master's thesis!”  
“Jaime, please. I don’t speak Mexican,” both Jaime and Logan turned to the Lord in surprise. Lord Dee snapped a finger, “Magenta, please roughly escort Jaime from the premises.”  
Magenta entered the room with a grin, “C’mere you.”  
He grabbed Jaime by the collar and started dragging him from the room. Jaime immediately started struggling and shouting as he was dragged from the house, “I will have my revenge, Lord Clairmont! You will pay for this! And the spirits of my ancestors will mock your soul as it writhes on the devil’s pitchfork! Do you hear me, Lord Clairmont? You will pay! You will pay!”  
A door slam echoed through the mansion, Logan staring after the two that had just left. “Now where was I?”  
Logan turned back to the man behind him who seemed entirely unbothered by the scene. “You were talking about the size of your heart?” Logan tried.  
“I won’t deny a man of my stature has enemies, Mr Nickels, but I fear no one,” Lord Dee turned back to the detective with a grin.  
Logan scanned the room, “What about… the Bengal Diamond?”  
Lord Dee laughed, “The Bengal Diamond? That old legend? I think you’ve been reading too many dime…”  
Logan threw his coconut on the ground causing Lord Dee to cry out in protest. “Quit the run-around,” he demanded. “Don’t think I don’t know about the Diamond.”  
“But how could you?” Lord Dee demanded.  
“Well, for starters- I can see it right there,” Logan pointed at a giant red diamond sitting on the mantel behind the Lord.  
“Where?” Lord Dee looked in the opposite direction.  
“There!” Logan pointed again.  
“Where?”  
“It’s right there,” Logan grabbed Lord Dee by the shoulder and spun him around to where he was pointing.  
“Why that?” Lord Dee laughed. “That could be anything.”  
“Sure it could, but there is a plaque right here that says it is ‘The Bengal Diamond,’” Logan pointed at a large gold plaque right next to the diamond.  
“All right, fine, I admit it,” Lord Dee said. “That’s the Bengal Diamond, the most expensive diamond in the world.”  
Logan scoffed, “I had a feelin.”  
“Do you have any idea what a diamond of that magnitude is worth?” Lord Dee demanded.  
“Not a clue,” Logan said with a grin.  
“Have you ever heard of the Jamaican Lunacy?” Lord Dee asked.  
“I don’t believe I have.”  
Lord Dee settled down into a large chair, “The name Jamaican Lunacy derives from the strange case of the man at the helm of the El Oro del Diablo - the pride of the Spanish Main, one Captain Rodrigo Azabathamo. He was transporting the diamond from the King of Spain to a planter in the West Indies, but his lust for the cargo caused him to go so mad that his gums bled and he lost all his teeth.”  
“That sounds like scurvy,” Logan commented.  
“To the superstitious, perhaps. Determined to steal the diamond, Azabathamo took up piracy and roamed the Caribbean for four years before he was captured by the Spanish Navy. But the captain of the ship who captured Azabathamo also went insane and stole the diamond, the next captain who captured the second captain did the same thing and on and on for the next 150 years before falling into the hands of a Duke Thumbchustle of Westiptipshire, England in 1772. In 1817, it was given to a Hindi prince in exchange for the Indian subcontinent, where it languished for the next 125 years.” Lord Dee paused to take a long drink from his coconut before saying, “Oh, and it’s cursed.  
“Where did you get it?” Logan asked.  
“From a man who loved me very deeply,” Lord Dee said cryptically. Logan snorted grabbing a coconut from the table and taking a long drink. “You’re a cynic. You’ve never been in love, Mr Nickels?”  
“Yeah, but never again. Love isn’t worth anything. So who was this boyfriend of yours?” Logan asked.  
“I’m not at liberty to say.”  
“That does it!” Logan threw his coconut against the wall behind Lord Dee. Ignoring the Lord’s cries of outrage, Logan snapped, “Stop it! You stop it right now, you hear me? I don’t know what little game you’ve got cooked up for me, but I ain’t playing, get it? I’ve never been much for games. Sure, I’ve played my share of Monopoly, but if you take me for a sucker who’ll sit by, smiling, while you fiddle with the dice, move the game pieces around when I’m not looking, and lie about the cost of hotels on Pennsylvania Avenue, then I don’t care if you’re willing to trade me the B&O, the Reading, and Marvin Gardens for Park Place, you know why? Cause people like you always start with Boardwalk. And if you got Boardwalk and Park Place, then it doesn’t matter what cards everyone else is holding - they’re all Baltic Avenue to you.” Logan straightened his tie before calling out, “Magenta, my hat and coat!”  
Magenta stormed back into the room, shoving Logan’s hat and coat into his chest, “You better watch yourself, pal.”  
“Oh, take that!” Logan reeled back and punched Magenta square in the gut. Lord Dee jumped up to stabilize Magenta while Logan put his slightly crumpled hat on. “I’d give you my card, but you can only afford so many.”


	2. Chapter 2

Outside the mansion, Logan noted a tan ‘41 Merc coupe speeding away. Annoyed by the entire day and that he had now had someone watching him, Logan elected to drink at home instead of at a bar as he usually did. He even made an attempt to go to bed early with hopes that the next day would be better.  
It wasn’t.  
Logan barely walked into his office the next morning before Talyn threw a newspaper at him, “New record!”  
“How’s that?” Logan asked.  
“One meeting and he winds up dead. Usually, your clients don’t get killed until you’re two weeks into a case. That’s today’s paper.”  
Logan unfolded the paper, “ ‘World-Famous Bengal Diamond stolen! Unlikable blue-blood, Lord Clairmont, found dead beneath Echo Park Bridge in a fatal diamond heist. Experts estimate the time of death somewhere between 10 pm and 2 am.’ Whoever was driving that ‘41 Merc Coupe must have known I wouldn’t be there to protect her. Now he’s playing the harp, while I’m played for a sap.”  
“Looks like we’ll be working pro bono for a while,” Talyn commented.  
“Echo Park Bridge,” Logan said to himself before turning to Talyn. “There’s been a hobo village beneath that bridge for a few years. Maybe someone should ask them a few questions.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Logan was walking through the canal underneath the bridge when he spotted a collection of hobos gathered around one wearing a jewelled crown. One of the hobos said to her, “Your majesty, now that you have been delivered your crown, you want I should make your announcement?”  
“Have at it!” the hobo in the crown said.  
The other hobo turned to the collection that started to kneel, “Ladies and Gentlepersons of Hoboland, your Queen by both design right and noblesse oblige, Lady Val of Echo Park and parts without.” The hobos burst into applause while the first hobo turned back to Lady Val, “Your highness, have you any instructions for us, your most loyal, humble and generally disreputable subjects?”  
“Yes, tonight I sleep on dry ground,” Lady Val declared. “And if you have any tuna, I could really go for it.” The hobos all burst out laughing. Lady Val scowled and wrapped an arm around her stomach, “I’m very hungry. I don’t know why you’re laughing.”  
Logan walked up as the hobos continued to laugh, “Alright, hobos! Cut the racket!”  
Immediately, the hobos started scrambling and hissing as they gathered in front of Lady Val.  
“Who’s he?” one hobo hissed.  
“He don’t belong here,” another whispered.  
“Outsider.”  
“Stranger.”  
“Protect the Queen,” this hobo pulled a shoe out of his pocket, pointing it at Logan.  
“The name’s Logan Nickels. I’m a private dick and I’m here to investigate a murder,” Logan explained.  
“I don’t believe him.”  
“Outsider.”  
“Protect the Queen.”  
“I’m not after you, but after those responsible for the killing of Lord Clairmont. I lost a potential client and those don’t come easily,” Logan tried again.  
The first hobo stepped forward, “Oh, we don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no murder, mister.”  
“Yeah,” another hobo spoke up, “we j… j… just hobos.”  
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Logan demanded. “If you don’t know anything, then why does that woman have a tiara?”  
The hobos looked back at Lady Val who was playing with her hair and then back at Logan. “A tiara?” the first one asked.  
“Yeah, a tiara,” Logan said. “You know, a crown. It’s the only thing in sight that isn’t covered in filth.”  
“But… she’s our Queen,” the first hobo said.  
“Get outta here,” Logan grabbed the first hobo by the ear, pulling him out of his way to speak directly to Lady Val. “You there, Queen. I want answers and I want ‘em quick, comprende?”  
“Shall I make it a double?” Lady Val asked.  
Logan stepped back, dropping the other hobo’s ear, “Huh?”  
“Cats make me sneeze,” Lady Val said.  
“I don’t follow,” Logan looked over at the other hobos.  
The one with the shoe whispered, “Protect the Queen,” as the group backed away.  
“Listen Lady Hobo, I’ve had just about enough out of you!” Logan snapped.  
“It’s no use, mister,” a voice spoke up from behind him.  
Logan spun around, “What?”  
“She’s crazy,” a man was standing there, looking a little cleaner than the other hobos, but still covered in dirt with strange substances in his moustache. “She don’t mean nothin’. She just don’t know what’s what.”  
“I’d like to redeem this coupon, please,” Lady Val spoke up, reaching over the other hobos to hand Logan a large leaf.  
Logan took it before turning back to the strange man, “Oh, and who are you?”  
“I ain’t no one. I just live beneath this here bridge,” the man said.  
“You look mighty familiar,” Logan thought out loud.  
“Oh, not me. I got no friends, no name. I’m like the wind mostly. I just drift from place to place, landin’ nowhere in particulars.”  
“I do know you!” Logan exclaimed. “You’re Apollo Johansen! I saw you contend for the flufferweight title at the Olympic Auditorium in 1936.”  
“Oh, not me, mister,” the man denied. “You must have me confused with someone else.”  
“You were up against Jericho McGraw. Jericho was the champ but you were heavily favoured,” Logan said.  
“I don’t much follow the prize fights,” the man tried.  
“You’d beaten Jericho senseless for five rounds, then in the sixth, you tripped over your own shoelaces, fell on your face and passed out. A riot broke out that night the LAPD couldn’t contain for three days.”  
“Ok, you got me,” Apollo finally admitted. “I guess you can see why I…”  
Logan continued, “It was later proved you took money from the Cleveland Outfit to take a dive.”  
Apollo said, “I guess we’ve all done some things we’re not too proud of.”  
“Then you were arrested for running a phoney insurance company that ripped off old people.”  
“Like I said, I’ve had some real…” Apollo tried again.  
“Lessee,” Logan said. “You escaped to Canada to avoid the draft, then there were those charges that you were running a sweatshop.”  
“Yeah, I really really feel bad about…”  
“You may or may not have hit your sister in the head with a rock. That was never verified. You were then arrested for running a puppy-drowning ring. That didn’t make you too popular with the kiddos.”  
“Again, I’m so sorry about all the…”  
“Now here you are,” Logan finally finished. “All sure fired and cocky. Well, all that mob, senior citizen, and dead puppy money ain’t doing you much good anymore, is it?”  
“Nah, I guess I’m kind of a loser,” Apollo admitted.  
“Alright then, tell me everything you know,” Logan prodded.  
“Well, it was last night around midnight when I heard some ruckus goin’ on overhead,” Apollo began. “I saw a finely dressed man holding a large red diamond. I recognized him as Lord Clairmont. He was meeting another man that I didn’t recognize and couldn’t see very well.  
_“Well, I’m here,” Lord Dee demanded. This had better be good, as I’m missing out on having drinks from some very expensive coconuts.” The other man mumbled to which Lord Dee responded, “You’ll be fine. You’re a survivor. You’ll land on your feet.” The man mumbled again. “That’s not my problem, now is it?” Lord Dee demanded. The man pulled a gun, his hand shaking as he pointed it at Lord Dee. Lord Dee just laughed, “The nerve! If you’re going to pull out that thing, you’d better have the guts to use it.” There was a pause before the man lowered his gun. Lord Dee smirked, “I thought not.” Another figure approached from the other side, already pointing a gun at Lord Dee who exclaimed, “Wait a minute, who’s this? I thought you said you were coming alone!” The second figure fired his gun. Lord Dee stumbled, “You shot me! How dare you!” The figure grabbed the diamond from Lord Dee and pushed him towards the railing. Lord Dee started rambling, “My diamond! Give that back! Wait, what are you doing? Get away from me! You hear me! Get away? Wait, the bridge? Not the ledge to the bridge! Not the edge of the ledge to the bridge! You’re not going to push me over, are you? You are! You are going to push me over! You’re pushing! I’m losing balance! I’m about to fall! I… I… AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!”_  
“And then there was a loud splashing sound as Lord Dee landed in the water. The two figures walked away together,” Apollo finished his story.  
“That all sounds oddly detailed. Did he really give the play-by-play like that?” Logan asked.  
“I admit it was helpful. Oh, and there’s this,” Apollo dug into his pocket and pulled out a watch, handing it over.  
Logan took it, examining the label on the back, “‘Geneva Brothers’... Uh, thanks but I can’t accept this.”  
Apollo shook his head when Logan tried to hand it back, “I think it’s… what do you call it… evidence! I found it under the bridge by the dead man and grabbed it before the police got here.”  
“Thanks, Apollo,” Logan pocketed the watch. “You think maybe you’ll make it back to the ring someday?”  
“Nah, I’m too crooked,” Apollo said with a smirk while walking away.  
“Hey, copper!” the first hobo from earlier shouted, stomping up to Logan. “You might act all tough, but this here tiara we got’ll make us all rich as Rockefellers, how do you like that?”  
“Only if you can get rich off rhinestones,” Logan said.  
“What?” the hobo took a step back.  
“You dumb rube,” Logan shook his head. “Don’t you know rich broads like that only wear fake jewellery when they go out at night? Looks like you’re still a buncha dirty hobos, after all.”


	3. Chapter 3

Logan found himself back at the office after a failed stakeout at the fired butler’s place. He found the butler meeting with a man that never crossed the window for identification. Another car had pulled up and shot up the front of the butler’s house with a warning to pay up or he’ll be paying up with interest. He found Talyn examining a pile of papers with a magnifying glass. “Got a new hobby there?” he asked.

“Nah, writing samples,” Talyn said. “Last night I broke into the Clairmont Mansion and grabbed some papers from every room in the house to compare them to the old man’s death threats. After several hours of analysis, I’ve concluded the handwriting on those death threats belongs to none other than Brian Clairmont.”

“Good work,” Logan said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Oh, and while I was there, I took a look at the tire treads in front of the house, the ones left there by that car that was watching you,” Talyn said. “They were a lateral hash design from Goodyear.”

“Ok,” Logan said, turning around.

“You know, lateral hash?” Talyn tried. At Logan’s blank face, they continued, “It’s a type of tire that required a high-grade rubber and was discontinued in 1942 on account of the war. That means that car ain’t been driven much in five years. On a hunch, I checked some retirement homes in the area and the folks at the Happy Tidings home in Brentwood had a car stolen from one of their residents two weeks ago, a 1941 tan Merc coupe.”

“Well, that takes care of the car,” Logan said, pulling the watch out of his pocket. 

“What’s that you got there?” Talyn asked, taking the watch from him. “‘Geneva Brothers.’ Sounds fancy.”

“I found it at the scene in Echo Park,” Logan explained.

Talyn grabs a large tome from the bookshelf, “Let me just check the ol’ jewellery database. Let’s see here…” They dropped it on the desk with a loud bang causing Logan to jump back. “Classic 1920’s southern French design… Stainless clasp with non-elastic binding. Here it is!” They turned back to Logan, pointing to an entry in the book, “This watch was purchased at Nelson’s Pawn Shop on La Brea and Olympic.” They looked down at the watch, “D’you see these bloodstains?”

“Hadn’t noticed,” Logan admitted.

“I better run some tests and see if I can come up with anything,” Talyn said turning back to their desk.

“Good thinking, Talyn. In the meantime, call Brian Clairmont for me,” Logan said.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan met the young heir at Emilie’s Liquor Lounge. At a table inside, Brian admitted, “It’s true I didn’t get along too well with father. I suspect you’ve heard the gossip.”

“A little,” Logan narrowed his eyes. “I know you left him little notes saying you were going to kill him.”

“Oh those,” Brian laughed, playing with his napkin. “We so enjoyed ribbing one another.” 

“And I know that despite all of his wealth and the premature death of your mother after the birth of your sister, he was notoriously cheap,” Logan continued.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that,” Brian said.

“He’d give you acorns for your birthday. That must have upset you,” Logan prompted.

“Not particularly,” Brian avoided. 

“They were collected from the acorn tree outside your house.”

“It’s the thought that counts, Mr Nickels.”

“He wouldn’t gather them himself. He’d make you do it.”

“Well, I…”

“And as an extra touch, just to make sure you didn’t get too spoiled, he’d make you give the acorns to charity.”

“Now see here,” Brian snapped. “What’s the point of all this?”

“Did you kill your father, Mr Clairmont?” Logan asked.

“Of course not!” Brian yelled. “How dare you, sir!”

Logan quickly grabbed Brian by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up, and yelling in his face, “Look here, Fontleroy! No one raises their voice to Logan Nickels, you hear? I know your father’s murder must have been hard on you, but it just so happens that with the 50 million simoleons you look to inherit due to your old man’s untimely run-in with the business end of a Smith and Wesson, you’ve hit the top of the LAPD’s ‘most likely prep-school flunky to ice their fathers’ list. So either you play straight with me, or you keep crackin’ wise and get yourself fitted for a new pair of striped pyjamas, capiche?”

“Yes!” Brian screeched. “I’m sorry, Mr Nickels, you’re right!” Logan dropped him back down in his chair. “I apologize if I’ve acted untoward,” Brian tried again. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Logan lowered himself back down into his own seat.

“I shoulda known it was you makin a rumpus,” a deep voice appeared behind Logan. 

Logan turned to see two thugs, one dressed it light yellow and one in dark purple. “Thomas, Virgil,” Logan greeted them. “I didn’t know you two mugs were still working here.”

Virgil started to snarl, but Thomas held up a hand, “Look, Logan, we don’t want no trouble.”

“No trouble,” Logan rolled his eyes. “That’s good because me and my friend could use a drink.”

“Your money’s no good here,” Virgil snapped. 

“The Boss won’t take it, Logan, you know that,” Thomas explained.

“Emilie’s getting mighty particular in his old age,” Logan commented.

“The Boss,” Virgil snarled, “is always lookin’ out fer the bum steer.”

“Your money always comes up counterfeit,” Thomas tried.

“Emilie forgets he owes me one. If it weren’t for me, he’d be tending gardens in Fulsom instead of running a ‘classy’ joint like this,” Logan snarled. 

“He don’t see it that way,” Virgil crossed his arms.

“Just get me a drink,” Logan said, pulling a bill out of his pocket. “I’ll take a Manhattan and junior here will take a chocolate milk.”

“No,” Brian protested. “Make that two manhattans. I assure you I can handle my liquor, Mr. Nickels. I’ve been to university.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, but handed the bill to Thomas anyway, “Two manhattans then. And you better not slip me a Mickey.”

Thomas looked down at the money in confusion and handed it over to Virgil who snarled, “What’s the big idea?”

“Jeez, Logan, this stuff don’t look real to the casual observer. It’s got little choo-choos on the front,” Thomas said, pointing down at the Monopoly money. 

“It ain’t even green,” Virgil snipped.

“Just beat it an’ make with the liquor,” Logan dismissed them.

Virgil and Thomas looked at each other for a moment. “Okay,” Thomas finally said. “But the Boss ain’t gonna like this.”

“Wise guy,” Virgil snarled while the two walked away.

Logan turned back to Brian, “Now, tell me what you know about the Bengal Diamond.”

“It’s the only 300 karat red diamond in the world. Father got it as a gift from an Indian Rajah when he saved his life,” Brian explained.

“I remember that,” Logan said. “Didn’t he have a heart attack?”

Brian nodded, “Father was there on business when he suffered an attack, mid-conversation. He rushed to his side and gave him some aspirin. He recovered nearly immediately since it turned out to be heartburn, but he was so convinced that Father had saved his life, he insisted that he take the diamond as a gift. Ironically, he died three days later from an allergic reaction to aspirin.”

“Isn’t the diamond supposed to be cursed?” Logan asked.

“Yes, they call it the 95-year curse,” Brian said. “Every owner of the diamond going back seven centuries dies in their sleep at the age of 95 or older.”

“Spooky,” Logan said.

“But, despite this horrifying curse, Father insisted on keeping it,” Brian sighed. 

A man dressed in a tight red shirt and gold suspenders walked up holding a tray, “Your drinks, Gentlemen.”

“Thanks,” Logan took his, downing half of it in one gulp.

The man started to hand the other drink to Brian, but stopped, “Will a glass do, young man, or shall I get you a sippy-cup?”

“Now see here,” Brian started to snap.

“Cool it, junior,” Logan cut him off.

Brian took his glass from the man, “Haven’t I met you somewhere before?”

“I don’t know,” the man snapped. “Was it someplace a cheap line like that works?”

“I swear I know you from somewhere,” Brian said.

“I work a lot of clubs in town,” the man said, dismissively. “The Cabana Club, The Derby Grove, The Poocamboo, The Death Rattle, and on Wednesdays I play the vibraphone at Nebakanezer’s Babylon Hut.”

“I saw that show,” Logan lowered his own drink. “You did the whole number with six pounds of bananas on your head. Handled the mallets like he was carving a turkey.”

The man looked over at Logan with a smile, “Well, I like whacking small metal bars with soft little hammers.”

There was a slight pause before Logan commented, “That wasn’t as dirty as I anticipated.”

“Well, stick around. It’s lookin’ to get a whole lot dirtier,” the man smirked.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Thomas’s voice echoed across the speakers from the stage. “The dulcet tones of Mr Roman Livingston.”

The man smiled, “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better run. Any requests?”

Logan hummed as he asked, “Maybe, you know ‘Rainbow Dream’?”

Roman’s smile immediately dropped, “Does Joe Louis beat guys senseless?” 

He sauntered towards the stage, while Brian took a drink before spitting it out, “Goodness, what’s in this?”

“Nothing you’ll find at one of your universities,” Logan commented, taking another drink of his own.

Roman took his position at the microphone having handed off his tray to Thomas, “This is dedicated to the children of the world who dream about rainbows.” A piano started to play as he sang…

_ “Dream about a rainbow _

_ A bright enchanting rainbow _

_ Dream about the children who dare to dream about a rainbow _

_ High upon a mountain _

_ Bathed in dreamy sunlight _

_ The children of the misty hills are singing in the moonlight _

_ Seek shelter in a rainbow dream _

_ Sing the children of the hillside _

_ Things are ne’er as bad as they seem _

_ There are few wild cougars from which to hide _

_ Always reach for the brightest star _

_ Sing the children on the hillside _

_ Always believe in who you are and always look on the bright side _

_ Of life _

_ There is trouble hiding in the waves and choices you must make _

_ But like the mighty unicorn who wears a coat that’s newly shorn _

_ Ride the highest wave into the sun _

_ Live that rainbow dream _

_ Into the place where children play _

_ Cross that raging stream oe’r the bridge of happy days _

_ Come along and join the winning team _

_ Your heart has so much to say and save a dream for me!” _

Roman bowed as the audience started to clap before sauntering back over to Logan and Brian’s table. “What’d ya think?” his eyes locked on the detective.

Brian spoke up, “I thought you handled that transition at the end of the prelude quite-”

“Not you!” Roman snarled, grabbing Brian by his collar and hauling him out of his chair. Roman settled in it, smiling at Logan, “Him.”

Logan looked over at Brian who sighed and walked over to take a seat at the bar, “What do you need my opinion for? You don’t know me from Adam.”

“I know you’re Logan Nickels,” Roman admitted.

“Is that so?” Logan finished off his drink.

“I know you’re a private dick, and you’ve been looking all over Los Angeles for a lead on the Bengal Diamond case,” Roman leaned forward.

“Looks like you’re quite the gumshoe yourself. Anything you can fill me in on?” Logan asked.

“You’re a fool, Logan,” Roman snapped leaning back in his chair. “Every two-bit hood and snoopy McSnoopkins in Los Angeles has been trying to crack this case. What makes you think you can do any better?”

“Suppose I told you I knew who the killer was?” Logan suggested.

“Suppose I didn’t believe you?”

“Suppose that broke me up inside?”

“Suppose you went roller skating to forget your troubles?”

“Suppose I went roller skating, fell and skinned my knee?

“Suppose I kissed your boo-boo and made it all better?”

“Suppose it wasn’t my boo-boo you were kissing?”

“Logan, it’s Emilie!” The two snapped their heads back into their chairs as Thomas came skidding up to their table. Thomas stops as he spots Roman, “Oh, excuse me, Mr Livingston.”

“That’s all right, Thomas. What is it?” Roman waved a hand, dismissively.

Thomas pauses for a second longer before turning to Logan, “It’s Emilie. He’s awful mad about the funny money eminatin’ from your table, Logan. And Mr Livingston, he said he was fed up with your shenanigans, said you were a no-good tramp, and if he ever saw your face again he’d kill ya. I never seen him like this. Ya’s better amscray. I gotta go. I can’t be seen here.”

Logan stared after the thug while Roman tried to recover from his shock. He got up, reaching a hand out to Roman, “We’d better get outta here or next time you sing it’ll be through a fat lip.”

“Let that big monkey try it!” Roman snapped, taking Logan’s hand.

“I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. Can you get home alright?” Logan asked.

“I don’t have a car,” Roman admitted. “I can’t drive!”

“You can come with us. C’mon!”

Logan waved Brian over who came up excitedly, “Mr Nickels, I’ve got it! I know where I’ve seen Mr Livingston before! It was on the night of the murder. I was across the street from the library when I bumped into him, causing me to drop my books. I noticed he seemed rather nervous and... AAAGGH!”

Logan, who had been surveying the bar while half-listening to Brian, turned back to Brian, “Kid, take it easy, it’s not all that.” Brian collapsed forward, Logan barely catching him in surprise and spotted a knife buried into his back, “Kid!”

Logan pulls the knife out of Brian’s back while other patrons started shouting around him, “That boy’s been stabbed!”

“That man’s got a knife! Someone stop him!”

“Yeah! Someone grab him!”

“Roman!” Logan shouted as he realized he couldn’t spot the singer.

“Logan, what happened?” Roman pushed his way through the gathered patrons, gasping as he spotted Brian’s body.

“Brian’s been murdered! Where were you?” Logan demanded.

“I was talking to someone when a strange man hurled a knife at me! I was just able to get out of the way,” Roman said, looking around at the still shouting patrons. “Logan, let’s get out of here! Someone’s trying to kill me! Run, Logan, run!”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two arrived at Logan’s apartment, Logan locking the door and making sure all the shutters were down as sirens played outside. “You can sleep in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch,” Logan said.

“I can’t stay here,” Roman protested. “I have work in the morning!”

“I know it’s not the Roosevelt, but it should be ok for now. And as for Emilie’s Liquor lounge, consider yourself laid off,” Logan said.

“Well this is entirely uncalled for, and I won’t stand for it,” Roman started to leave.

“Get away from that door!” Logan grabbed Roman around the waist, depositing him on the couch. “You’ll stay put and you’ll like it! You just witnessed a murder, and I was seen holding the murder weapon. That makes you an accomplice. And as for Emilie’s, I’d make myself scarce. Whatever you did to Emilie got him mighty steamed, and if you go back there they’ll greet you like you were a giraffe at a vampire convention.”

Roman collapsed into the couch, “Oh, how could this have happened?”

Logan sat down next to Roman, “Look, I’m sorry you had to get caught up in all this, but there are about a hundred flatfoots out there dying to get their hands on yours truly, so we’ll just have to stay put.”

“How long?” Roman asked.

“I don’t know.”

Roman groaned as he got to his feet and started pacing, “Well, Roman, you’ve really done it this time. Wait’ll the gang back in Tulsa hears about this.”

“What difference does it make what they hear back home?” Logan asked.

Roman stops and turns to Logan, “You don’t know Roman Livingston. He’s always got a story. There’s this one he tells about a small-town boy who comes out to California so he can become a big movie star, only maybe he doesn’t get so big so fast, see, and he’s gotta tell the gang back home something. So he makes up this story that he changed his name to Roman Novarro.” But maybe the gang’s not so sure Roman’s telling the truth on account o’ Roman Novarro is a little smaller and darker and this Roman had to keep writing home asking for money, and Roman Novarro’s pretty rich. And the return address on the envelope said “Roman Livingston” and… and…. oh, Logan!” Roman fell back onto the couch, crying. 

“It’s ok,” Logan tried placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder to comfort him. As Roman kept crying, Logan rolled his eyes and slapped him. Roman gasped looking up at him in shock as Logan shouted, “Stop it, you hear me? Stop it! You gotta be strong! I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you’re Roman Novarro in disguise or Roman Livingston and broke and unemployed. And I don’t care about your friends, and if you’re a joke or not, or if you’re the most unpopular loser from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and you know why?”

“Why?” Roman asked.

“Because right now you’re with me. And I happen to think you’re pretty swell.” Logan paused for a moment as he put a hand on Roman’s shoulder, “You’re trembling.”

Roman laughed, “Oh, I guess I’m just nervous. I’ve never been this close to a world-famous detective is all.”

“I’m not so world-famous, once you get to know me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wow! A complete breakfast, how splendid!” Roman tried as he poked at what could only be generously be called food on his plate the next morning. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, only greatly more rumpled with his hair hastily smoothed down. “They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but I never have it. Who has time these days?”

Logan took a long drink from his coffee before adding some more liquid from a flask, “How're your eggs, Roman?”

“Just perfect,” Roman tried poking at the scrambled eggs with shells poking out. “Hard on the outside, soft on the in. And the orange juice?” Roman looked into the glass with a whole orange in it. “We owe a lot to oranges when you think about it. They give us so much and ask for so little in return.”

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. “Logan, who is it?” Roman asked as Logan stood up, putting one hand down towards his hip where his gun rested.

“I don’t know,” Logan whispered back. “You’d better hide in the other room.”

“What are they gonna…”

“Hurry!” Logan waited for Roman to scurry to the bedroom before calling out, “Who is it?” 

“It’s me, Logan! Toby! Open up!” a familiar voice called out. 

Logan groaned before opening the door for two police officers, “Hey, fellas. Toby, Seth.”

“Top o’ the mornin’,” Seth tipped his hat as the two officers entered. 

“Hiya, Logan. Smells good. Whatcha got cookin’?” Toby asked, eyeing the food on the small card table. 

“Some breakfast. Cup o’ joe,” Logan offered.

“No time, Logan,” Toby said.

“Kinda busy,” Seth added.

“Yeah, kinda busy, you see, on account o’ this murder that took place last night,” Toby continued.

“Murder, huh?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, seems some blueblood got a little get-well card in the forms of a knife,” Toby explained.

“Yeah, only it was in his back. And it didn’t make him well so much as… Uh, you know…” Seth looked over at his partner.

“Dead,” Toby finished.

“Yeah, dead,” Seth agreed.

“So, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Toby asked.

“Geez… That’s awful. What is this world coming to?” Logan took a long drink from his coffee. 

“In a handbasket, I says,” Seth agreed.

Toby continued, “The victim was one Brian Clairmont, and the whole sordid affair took place last night at Emilie’s Liquor Lounge.”

“A place which you’ve been known to frequent from time to time,” Seth raised an eyebrow.

Logan shook his head, “Not any more fellas. In case you haven’t heard, Emilie and I are on the outs. The only drink I’d get served there is a clop in the chops.”

“Sure,” Toby laughed. “Only we got witnesses sayin’ they saw someone looking just like you holding the kid in one hand, and a bloody knife in the other.”

“So you can see why we might want to ask you what happened,” Seth added.

“You boys have been reading too many dime novels,” Logan dismissed. “I wasn’t there last night, I was at the office reorganizing my to-do files.”

“To-do what? Murder a kid?” Toby sneered.

“I don’t have to take that from you!” Logan snapped, launching himself for Toby.

“Easy!” Seth grabbed Logan, trying to hold him back from his partner.

Toby laughed, getting right up in Logan’s face as he said, “Let him go, Seth! Maybe when we throw him in the cooler for assaulting a police officer, he’ll tell us about the murder and about that boy he was with.”

Logan pulled himself free from Seth’s hold while Toby stepped back, “What boy? What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Toby rolled his eyes. “That boy you were seen with last night, Roman Livingston.”

“A real looker,” Seth added. 

“Yeah,” Toby agreed. “Nice pins, nice pipes… And he would have known the victim pretty well since he’d been seen chatting up his brother.”

“Remy Clairmont,” Seth clarified. Logan looked towards his still covered window as he listened.

“The singer’s been dipping his beak with Mr Clairmont nightly, at Emilie’s for the past several weeks. Except for that one night,” Toby trailed off.

“Yeah,” Seth continued. “The night of Lord Clairmont’s murder little Mr Clairmont was having a tete a tete with some geezer.”

“Livingston wasn’t there for that.”

“The old man is as yet unidentified, but it’s curious that Livingston wasn’t at his regular table with Remy Clairmont the night the old man gets shot and thrown off a bridge.”

“Funny coincidence, that.”

“But he was seen with you last night.”

“Was a cocktail waiter at Emilie’s, then some kid puts a down payment on a wooden kimono, then he’s gone.”

Logan turned back to the cops, “What would I know about some boy? I don’t do H.R. for Emilie’s, so you can crack foxy somewhere else.”

“Yeah? Then why do you got two plates of eggs?” Toby asked.

“What are you driving at?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Two plates. You see that, Seth?” Toby pointed at the card table. 

“A breakfast for two!” Seth gasped.

“A regular smorgasbord!” Toby said.

“That does it!” Logan threw one of the plates to the ground, causing the two to jump backwards in shock. “Look, maybe I just want to enjoy some breakfast, see? Maybe, after working all night at the office, I’d like to indulge in a double-heaping of breakfast, but am interrupted at 8:30 in the morning by a couple of slow-witted flatfoots with chips on their shoulders because they’re stuck on another case that, if they screw up, will be their twelfth unsolved murder in a row, insuring them a bust back down to sergeant and a career of rousting railroad bums for extra cash so they can get a little something for their partners to help them forget they’re married to the dullest, most pathetic dicks on the force!”

“Hey!” Seth protested.

“Gee whiz, Logan, you don’t have to get personal,” Toby tried.

“Yeah, we’re just bantering with you, Logan,” Seth nervously protested.

“Well, take your banter somewhere else. It bores me,” Logan collapsed down into a chair next to the card table.

“We’re goin. We’re goin,” Toby headed towards the door. 

“Just let us know if you hear anything,” Seth added.

“You’ll be lucky if you get a Christmas card,” Logan snapped right before the door closed.

A moment later, Roman poked his head back into the living room, “Are those awful men gone?”

“Yeah,” Logan tilted a glass over, rolling the orange in his hand.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Roman walked over to the centre of the room. “Logan, what would I do without you? I can always count on you in a crisis. That’s what I like about you. You’re quick on your feet, and that’ll help us if we have to leave town to get away from the police. Oh, it would just be romantic! We can move to my cousin’s place in San Berdoo. You can support us by working odd jobs. And I can stay home and bake cookies all day. And maybe some pecan pie! Then, if there’s a county fair, we can…”

“Shut up!” Logan threw his orange, narrowly missing Roman as it bounces off the back wall.

“Logan, why are throwing things at me?” Roman demanded.

Logan stomped over to Roman, “‘Help me,’ he says. ‘Oh that poor boy,’ he says.”

“Are you mocking me?” Roman snapped back.

“Tell me about Remy Clairmont,” Logan demanded.

“Remy who?” Roman asked, stepping backwards.

“You said you were afraid someone was trying to kill you. You didn’t say you were chums with the victim’s brother. The same brother who just inherited $100 million,” Logan said.

“Wait, you don’t understand!” Roman tried.

“You’re involved in this thing deeper than you let on. How?” Logan demanded. “And don’t feed me any more stories about Tulsa and how lonely you are.”

“But… I’m so lonely,” Roman trailed off as Logan stomped back over to the food.

“What do you know about the Clairmont's?” Logan asked.

“You’re right. I deserve your scorn,” Roman whimpered. “I am a terrible liar sometimes. I know I am. But only because I’ve never been so close to death, and that boy… And that knife… And I… I…” Roman collapsed back onto the couch, crying.

Logan sighed, turning back towards Roman, “Look, Roman, I’m not the police. But I can’t help you unless you level with me.”

Roman looked up at him and sighed, wiping his eyes before explaining, “Remy Clairmont started coming into Emilie’s on a regular basis starting about six weeks ago. He intimidated the regulars, but he seemed very sweet to me.”

“Did he talk about his father much?” Logan asked.

“Not really. Funny, though,” Roman thought out-loud. “When he did talk about his father he’d kinda clench his teeth, and then he’d grab a napkin and tear at it. Then he might absentmindedly claw at the napkin with a cocktail spear like he was kinda torturing it out of some pent-up desire for revenge. Funny.”

“Who was the older man he was with?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know,” Roman said. “They seemed to be talking about something very important, and I didn’t want to bother them”

“And you never saw Brian before last night?” Logan tried.

Roman shook his head, “No. He always came alone.”

“What about the butler? Did he ever talk about him?” Logan wondered.

“A butler?” Roman laughed. “I don’t know anything about a butler.”

“And did he ever talk about the diamond?” Logan asked.

“I swear I never heard of the diamond until it was in all the papers!” Logan nodded and started to head towards the door. Roman stood up, demanding, “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get to work,” Logan said, grabbing his hat and coat.

“Don’t leave me!” Roman begged. 

“It’ll be ok. You just lay low here for a while. Help yourself to whatever’s in the icebox, and I’ll be back this afternoon,” Logan put his hat on and started to put on the coat.

“Wait! Do you… Do you believe me?” Roman took another step towards Logan. “It’s very important that you do.”

“I believe you,” Logan reassured him.

Roman hesitated before asking, “Do you… love me, Logan?”

Logan kissed him before saying, “Call my office if you need anything.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan stopped by a payphone before heading all the way to the office to give Talyn a quick ring. Talyn answered on the first ring, “Logan Nickels’s office.”

“Hey, Talyn.”

“Nickels!” Talyn hissed. “As I live and breathe, you’re late! And if you weren’t my boss, I’d fire you!”

“You’re a taskmaster, Talyn,” Logan dismissed. “Listen, I was hoping to stop by the office…”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Talyn cut him off. 

Logan raised an eyebrow, as they sounded like they were trying to speak through their teeth suddenly, “Why’s that?”

“Cause a couple o’ good humour men from Emilie’s are here to pay you a visit. I told ‘em you weren’t going to be in today, but they’ve been hanging around the office for twenty minutes polishing brass knuckles and playing cat’s cradle with piano wire,” Talyn explained.

“Is that so?” Logan groaned.

“So you might want to stick to house calls for a while ‘til the heat cools off,” Talyn said. “Oh, and I have a message for you.”

“Who from?” Logan asked.

“He didn’t say, but he’s afraid his life is in danger, and he needs to see you right away. He lives in La Loma in Chavez Ravine,” Talyn said before quickly hanging up the phone. 

Logan made his way to the neighbourhood Talyn sent him to being directed to a small, darkened house. Inside, he found the gardener from the Clairmont’s, his house mostly packed with tarps over the furniture, “Hello? It’s Nickels.”

The gardener nodded, “Come in, Señor Nickels. Sit down, sit down, por favor.”

“Jaimie, right?” Logan asked.

“Si. Lo siento… um… I’m sorry for the… Cómo se dice… Premonitory circumstances,” Jaimie said.

Logan looked around the room before awkwardly sitting on the edge of the couch, “Don’t mention it.”

“Can I get you some tea? I have chamomile,” Jaimie offered.

“No thanks, I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Logan declined.

“Of course,” Jaimie said. “My life, it seems, may be in danger, so it behoves us both if this mystery is… How you say… Resolved expeditiously.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, me too. I understand you have some information?”

“Si, senor. I was in Echo Park the night of the murder. I was in front of the Angelus Temple as I am every night selling petunias to the passersby when I saw Brian Clairmont leaving the library,” Jaimie started his story.

_ The librarian, Ms Hutchinson, was bidding Brian farewell before locking the door. Brian walked away, holding a large pile of books and talking to himself, “That went well. I found the Balzac I wanted, and one can never read too much Chaucer.” There were distant gunshots that caused Brian to jump, “What was that? Was that backfire?” Then a high-pitched scream, “What a harrowing scream! And that splashing sound! A woman must have been alarmed by her car backfiring, and then panicked and threw a bucket of water on her tailpipe. But why would someone carry a bucket of water in her car? I wonder if they left the library open!” _

_ Brian turned to start to run back to the library, but ran into a man in a long coat, knocking Brian over and sending his books tumbling. “Watch it, stupid!” the man snarled. _

_ “Pardon me, Sir! But I believe you owe me an apology!” Brian snapped back as he started gathering his books. _

_ “Out of my way!” the man snarled again.  _

_ Brian stopped to look at the man for a minute, “My, but you’re sweating!” _

_ “I said move it!” the man shoved Brian again before stomping off. _

_ “I wonder where he’s going in such a hurry,” Brian wondered to himself. _

“And you couldn’t make out who the man was?” Logan asked.

“No, señor,” Jaimie admitted. “There was just enough light to see everything except that.”

“Thanks for the tip, Jaimie. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Logan got up to start to leave.

“Yes, I had better get to work myself,” Jaimie said. “I need to pack my things. The city is tearing down Chavez Ravine and the paving process is to begin in four days.”

“I heard about that. That’s a tough break,” Logan said.

Jaimie laughed, “It’s not so bad. The city says my little home will provide parking for up to three cars!”

“Is it true they’re planning on building a ballpark here?” Logan asked.

“No, just parking,” Jaimie said.

There was a slight pause before Logan said, “Well, adiós!”


	5. Chapter 5

Logan decided to return to the Clairmont Mansion, climbing the fence at the back to go through the backyard. It was the biggest backyard Logan had ever seen containing a menagerie, a botanical garden, a golf course, a miniature golf course, a livery, a miniature livery, and a river winding through a manmade forest of pine trees and stuffed elk that Logan followed until it reached the back of the house where there were twenty Greek gods spitting chlorinated water into a pool the size of the Rose Bowl. Lounging beside the pool was one Remy Clairmont. Remy turned to the detective lowering his sunglasses, “Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there watching me put on cocoa butter all day?”

“I was waiting for you to finish, but it’s taken fifteen minutes,” Logan sighed as he stepped forward. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Is this where I get grilled?” Remy asked, standing up.

“Excuse me?” Logan took a step back.

“Isn’t that what they call it in your profession, Mr Nickels? ‘Grilling a suspect?’” Remy smirked.

“I suppose…”

“Or are you going to give me ‘the business’? I don’t know if I could handle it,” Remy said, taking another step forward. 

“I think you could,” Logan said.

“I might crack under pressure.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Could you tell if I was lying?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bet you have an innate sense of when someone is ‘taking you for a ride.’ Is that something they teach you in detective school or do you have to be born with it?”

“I guess I’m pretty good at reading lips.”

“Is that so? Read these,” Remy leans in to kiss him. “What are they saying?”

“I think they’re trying to tell me your whereabouts on the night of your father’s murder,” Logan said.

Remy takes a step back, a stunned look on his face that he quickly wipes away, “I was training my Lipizzaner, Brutus.”

“I saw you that afternoon with him. How often do you ride that horse?” Logan asked.

“For your information, Mr Nickels,” Remy snaps, “I own six Lipizzaner stallions, three thoroughbreds, two greyhounds and one gamecock. Each one requires several hours of work at all times, day and night.”

“Tell me, how do you tend to all that livestock and still prowl seedy bars at night?” Logan asked.

Remy laughed, “Seedy bars? What do you…”

“Look,” Logan cuts him off. “I know you’ve spent every evening for the past six weeks throwing back cocktails with the dead-enders at Emilie’s Liquor Lounge, so you can peddle your wares somewhere else, cause I’m not buyin’.”

“Mr Nickels, where do you get these tawdry rumours?” Remy laughed again.

There is a slight pause before Logan asked, “You were there that night, weren’t you?”

Remy pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head before admitting, “I was. After I rode Brutus, at about nine o’clock, getting home at three the next morning.”

“You weren’t alone. You were with a man. An older man,” Logan pressed.

Remy rolled his eyes, “I’m always with older men.”

“But you knew this man intimately. Who was he?” Logan asked.

Remy sighed, “I was with Patton Wilson, our butler. He was in the market for some tea and sympathy, so I thought I’d oblige.”

“You make social visits with him often?”

“Just once before,” Remy said. “At Emilie’s, two days previous. He’s been in our family since I was a child. Taught me how to ride horses. And how to train gamecocks.”

“And what did you talk about?” 

“Mostly we talked about my parents. There are rumours that he and my mother had a fling once. But Father never seemed to believe it. When he arrived at Emilie’s that night, he was very upset and very drunk.”

“Did he leave with you?” 

Remy laughed, “We talked for a couple of hours, he made a crude pass at me, then excused himself and went home.” Remy paused and looked over at Logan, “He’s a good man. He knew my father in the First World War.”

“They serve together?” Logan asked.

“Father was a colonel in the army, and Patton was a corporal in an English Butler Squadron. After the war, he came to work for us,” Remy explained.

“Did you ever notice anything suspicious?”

“Not particularly.” Remy suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! He did keep a snub nose .45 in the pantry.”

“Is that standard issue for Bel Air help?” Logan cocked an eyebrow.

“He only needed it because he had $75,000 in gambling debts and people were always threatening to kill him,” Remy said.

“Who threatened to kill him?”

“I don’t know,” Remy scoffed. “I just remember these two thugs used to come by every few months and break and then re-break his legs.”

Logan looked surprised, “Do you know who they were working for?” 

“I heard them threatening him sometimes, but had trouble making out who sent them. It was… something Siegel… Remus something,” Remy snapped his fingers in frustration.

“Hmmmmm,” Logan said, thoughtfully. “That could be anyone.”

Remy leaned in, “Listen, Logan, I know my unorthodox way of dealing with the loss of two close family members by sunning myself by the pool isn’t the best way to evoke empathy, but-”

“Hush,” Logan said. “I’ll find whoever killed Brian and your father.”

“Is that Logan Nickels?” a voice shouted from the house.

Remy groaned, “Magenta…”

“I told ya what would happen if you showed your face around here again!” the voice called out.

“You should get out of here,” Remy said. “All these murders have made him awfully jumpy.”

“I’ll be back later,” Logan said his farewell.

Remy smirked, putting his sunglasses back on, “I’ll be waiting.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan walked into his office, calling out a greeting to Talyn, before saying, “Looks like our butler has a little gambling problem.”

“Yup,” Talyn said, flipping through a set of papers. “Seventy-five large.”

“He’s in the debt to the tune of… yeah,” Logan trailed off. “What are you working on now?”

“Clues, Logan,” Talyn said.

“Again?” Logan asked.

“You know me, Logan. I love a good snoop.” Talyn looked up with a raised eyebrow, “You know that boy, Roman, you been seein’?”

Logan sighed, “I can tell you right now, that’s a dead end. He had nothing to do with this.”

“Well, I know the police were looking for him, so I thought I’d do a little following up. You know how Remy Clairmont and the butler had drinks the night of the murder?” Talyn asked.

“Yeah, I just found that out…” Logan trailed off in surprise.

“Well,” Talyn started with a smirk, “I thought it was pretty likely Roman maybe struck up a friendship with the guy.”

“Impossible,” Logan denied. “He told me he had never met him.”

“I wanted to get a precise time the butler was at Emilie’s,” Talyn continued. “So I went rummaging through his trash can and found five bottles of gin, four bottles of sweet vermouth and four bottles of Campari as well as several orange twists. You know what that means?”

“No,” Logan sighed, giving up.

They continued, exclaiming, “He’s a negroni man! This afternoon dressed as Kai, an androgynous grifter persona I invented whenever I need information, I was able to sneak into Emilie’s office, hit Emilie in the head with a blackjack, and rifle through their receipts going back three days. And wouldn’t you know it? On the night of the murder, between 9:30 and midnight, one tab had seven negronis and three champagne cocktails.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Patton and Remy.”

“That tab was closed at 12 sharp, but, at the same time, at a table in the back, a new tab was started that had three negronis and two wine spritzers. And guess who’s shift ended at midnight?” Talyn asked.

“I dunno,” Logan admitted.

“Roman Livingston,” Talyn said. “And two days before? The same thing. And the same 6 pm to 12 am shift for Roman both nights.”

“I don’t know Talyn, that’s pretty circumstantial,” Logan pointed out.

“I thought so too, so I went to the library on a hunch and found these,” Talyn picked up three large books off their desk and dropped them into Logan’s hands who staggered slightly. 

When Logan righted himself, he read the three titles, “‘The Bengal Diamond,’ ‘Memoirs of Lord Thumbchustle, Diamond Collector,’ and ‘Diamond Theft Made Easy.’” He looked up at his assistant with a raised eyebrow, “So?”

“Those are the only three books in the L.A. Central Library about the Bengal Diamond and diamond theft, and look who last checked them out,” Talyn leaned back against their desk.

“‘R. Livingston.’ Why that little…” Logan dropped the books back into Talyn’s arms and stomped towards the door. “Hold my calls. I might be out for a while.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

When Logan was outside his apartment, he heard yelling, “That’s just too bad, isn’t it. We’re all frightened. We all get shot at sometimes. Suck it up and be there at seven o’clock sharp or I’ll hunt you down and wring your neck myself!”

Logan stepped in the door quietly watching Roman slam his phone down. “Anyone, I know?” 

Roman jumped and turned around quickly, “Uh, phone solicitor.”

“You sounded pretty upset,” Logan pointed out.

“Well, they shouldn’t. It’s just rude!” Roman said, absolutely flustered.

“You know what else is rude?” Logan snapped.

“Ooh, a riddle, Logan?” Roman squealed, suddenly excited. “I just love word games! Tell me, Logan, what else is rude?”

“People who lie through their teeth to get what they want,” Logan said.

Roman’s smile dropped off his face and he took a step back, “I don’t get it. Is this one of those daily jumbles?”

“Tell me everything you know about the Clairmont's,” Logan demanded.

“Who?” Roman tried.

“I know for a fact you met their butler at least twice, so why did you lie to me?” Logan asked.

“Because…. I…. well….. I,” Roman stuttered but was quickly interrupted by a knock on Logan’s door.

“Who is it?” Logan snapped.

“Hey, Logan,” a voice called out. “It’s Thomas, can I come in?”

“Get outta here, Thomas, we’re busy,” Logan said.

“I got orders to bust the door down and I’d like to avoid that, if possible,” Thomas said.

Logan sighed and opened the door. Thomas skidded to a stop, lowering his batton, “Hey, Logan! I gotta… Oh, excuse me.” Logan turned to see that Thomas had spotted Roman who had sat down exasperated on the couch.

Roman barely glanced over, simply saying, “It’s all right, Thomas.”

Thomas lowered a hand to his watch before turning back to Logan, “I beg your pardon, but Logan, you gotta come with me. The Boss says I’m to pound on ya if you don’t cooperate.”

“You tell Emilie if I so much as sneeze, he’d better hire a high-priced attorney,” Logan said, one hand still on the door. 

“It’s not from Emilie, Logan. I got other bosses. I’m what you call an independent contractor,” Thomas explained.

“Well, tell whoever it is I’m not home,” Logan snapped, turning away.

“I hate to do this Logan,” everything went blurry as something snapped across the back of his head. There was a scream behind him before a faint voice said, “You didn’t see nothin’, Mr Livingston. Let’s go.” A cloth was pressed to Logan’s nose before everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Logan jerked back to consciousness, everything blurred and his arms tied to the chair he was sitting in, yelling, “If you’re selling Fuller Brushes, I’m not interested.” Logan blinked again as his head swam and he realized his glasses were missing. He moaned, “My head.”

“My associate said you took some convincing last night,” an unfamiliar voice called out. 

Logan blinked as two figures sitting at a nearby table started to stabilize, “He made a persuasive argument.”

“You were mumbling all morning,” the unfamiliar voice continued. “You must’ve had some crazy dreams bouncin’ around in that overactive noodle o’ yours.”

“Sure, dreams. Where are my glasses?” Logan asked.

The voice ignored him, “Would you like a beer? Or perhaps a raspberry phosphate?”

Logan sighed, “What do you want from me?”

“Do you know who I am?” the voice asked.

“Why would I?” Logan squinted at the second man who had stood up. “I don’t subscribe to Cheap Thug Weekly.”

The strange man laughed, “Thomas, work on him.”

The second man stepped closer and a more familiar voice said, “Tense up your ribs, Logan.” Logan’s chair was swivelled around and suddenly there were three punches to his gut. “Now clench your jaw,” and there were three more to his jaw. 

Logan’s chair was swivelled back around and his glasses put on his face as the unfamiliar man said, “Too bad yer head’s not as smart as your mouth. Thomas, untie him and leave us alone a minute.”

“Sure thing,” Thomas said, cutting Logan’s ropes before leaving the room.

Logan rubbed at the burns on his wrist as the other man moved his chair closer. “You know who I am,” he stated.

Logan narrowed his eyes, “You’re Remus Siegel, what of it?”

“Word is you got a nose for diamonds,” Remus said with a grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan crossed his arms.

“Look, NIckels,” Remus said, easily. “I don’t like to sap hard-working stiffs like you. It’s not my nature. The problem is, as a successful businessman, I gotta get results. Ergo, the beatins. What have you heard about the Bengal Diamond?”

“It’s a big shiny stone,” Logan stated, rubbing at his cheek.

Remus laughed, “To the uneducated, perhaps. You ever hear of the Kerala Madness?”

“Perhaps,” Logan said.

Remus said, “The story goes that about a hundred years ago, an Indian Prince named Dwahili Rafsanmhadi, stole the diamond from his old man to give to his true love, when the elephant he was riding went meshugana, threw him to the ground, stomped on him and then fed him to some tigers who were watching from the sick of the road - as if the whole thing were a set-up. When the maiden came out to look for him, all that was left of him was his hand, clutching the diamond. Oh yeah, and it’s cursed.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “You sure you want this diamond?”

“I need this diamond Nickels,” Remus said, the easy smile slowly dropping from his face. “I need the money real bad and I’ve already extorted all I can from my friends and relations.”

“What do you need this money so bad for you’re willing to mess with some cursed rock?” Logan asked.

Remus’s smile returned, “Cause I got a vision, Nickels. I see things. Great things.”

Logan straightened an arm of his glasses, “I got an eye doctor I can recommend.”

“It’s been a rough few years for my people, you know that?” Remus said, suddenly.

Logan looked Remus up and down with a raised eyebrow, before saying, “Sure. I read the papers.”

“Do you know what it’s like not having a home? Do you know what that means to a people? Knowing you’re not wanted! Think of it. Everywhere you go, everyone you turn to treats you like a stranger. We’ve been kicked out of every nation on earth and forced to wander deserts the world over for centuries but not no more. In 1948, we’re establishing a homeland: a safe haven for my people once and for all. We’ll run it. We’ll defend it and from now on there ain’t gonna be anyone tellin’ us what to do,” Remus said.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Logan scratched at the back of his head. “You’re gonna give the diamond to Israel?”

“Israel?” Remus leaned back. “What are you talkin’ about? You must be gettin’ me confused with someone else.”

“Wait, so you’re not talking about the Jewish people?” Logan asked.

“The Jews? No, no, I’m talkin’ about gangsters! And how they need a homeland! What does that have to do with…” Remus trailed off as he looked over at the newspaper on the desk. “Oh, I got it now. Ok, in retrospect, I could see how that might have sounded confusing. Allow me to clarify.” He picked up a small map, showing it to Logan, “You ever been to Las Vegas, Nevada?”

“I think I got a hangnail removed there once,” Logan answered. 

“Not no more! Soon, it will be the entertainment capital of the world. Logan Nickels, take a look at the Las Vegas of the future!” Remus flipped the map over to show a drawing version of Las Vegas. “What do you think?”

Logan leaned in for a closer look, “Hey, that’s a pretty good rendering. That’s not a volcano, is it?”

Remus laughed, “It sure is. And swimming pools and artificial lakes and reefs, and a ski resort made out of cotton candy - all ringed by a moat of crocodiles for those who don’t pony up the fifty bucks to enter the town.”

“Sounds classy,” Logan said.

“All these things you see here: the solid gold ferris wheel, the Trevi fountain that runs on champagne, the holding tank filled with performing killer dolphins. They all run up quite a bill. And my investors are just about tapped out,” Remus explained.

“That’s why you want that diamond so bad,” Logan realized.

“I was hoping to purchase it for a song from Lord Clairmont himself,” Remus sighed.

“How?” Logan asked.

Remus smirked as he leaned forward, “With some rather embarrassing information we got about the Clairmont home-life.”

“Blackmail,” Logan said.

“As you may know, we’d been taking that Butler they got there, Patton, to the woodshed on account o’ the 75 Gs he owes us. And if you break a guy’s legs enough he’ll tell you all sorts of things. His love-life, for instance.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I already know all about him and the lord’s late wife.”

Remus smirked, “If it were only that simple. But it never is. Especially not with a kid involved. That butler spent twenty years slavin’ away over puff pastries for his own son and he didn’t even know.”

“Wait,” Logan started.

“A certain Remy Clairmont. And Lady Clairmont took that secret to her grave, supposedly,” Remus said. “Of course, Lord Dee knew, which is why the butler never revealed it. Which is why I planned to use it to get that diamond.”

“And because he can’t reveal himself to his son, he drowns his sorrows in booze and gambling while scheming for a way to get back at the man keeping him from his son,” Logan said, rubbing at his face. “But if you’re so sure Patton did it and he’s got the diamond, what do you want from me?”

“Don’t you read the papers?” Remus asked. “The butler’s gone missin’? The last we seen of him was the night we shot up his place with a Thompson.”

Logan scoffed, “I don’t know why he’d disappear like that.”

Remus continued, “If you get me the diamond, I’ll give you a percentage of the Flamingo and make sure the police are off your tracks. This is an excellent opportunity for you, Mr Nickels.” Remus stood up and punched Logan in the gut before leaving.

“Yeah, I guess opportunity knocks with a punch in the gut,” Logan coughed before standing to leave himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Logan arrived back at the Clairmont mansion to find Remy by the edge of the pool with Magenta fanning him a large peacock fan. Magenta spotted him first, dropping the fan and standing between him and Remy. “Take a powder,” Logan snapped.

“I don’t like your attitude, mister,” Magenta snapped back.

“Which part of my attitude you got a problem with? This part?” Logan punched Magenta in the gut. “Or this part?” Logan punched Magenta in the jaw and he went down.

“What is the meaning of this!” Logan looked over at Remy who had stood up, his sunglasses moved to the top of his head. 

“You’re gonna spill it, and you’re gonna spill it good, ya understand?” Logan demanded.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Remy snapped.

“Look here, horseboy. Your smart-talking, big-city mol in the body of a lithe and innocent world-class polo jockey act might work with your debutante friends and high-collared snuff addicts, but if you don’t spill it to me straight in the next five minutes I’ll have the LAPD on you faster than a midshipman on a zoot suit,” Logan threatened.

“I swear I’ve told you everything I know!” Remy shouted.

“Tell me about the Butler!” Logan yelled, taking a step closer.

“What? Tell you what?” Remy demanded.

“Tell me!” Logan took a swing at Remy, who ducked and stepped out of the way. “Tell me!”

Remy kept ducking and scrambling out of the way as Logan went for him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Stop lying about the butler!”

“I don’t know anything else!”

“Stop it!” A crunch rang out and Remy glanced down to see Logan had stepped on his sunglasses that had fallen off his head. Remy looked sharply up, catching Logan’s wrist with his hand. Logan stopped, “You don’t…” Remy threw Logan’s hand down and slapped him. Logan staggered before looking up at Remy, holding his cheek as he said, “You don’t know what I’m talking about do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Remy crossed his arms.

“Oh, well, funny story. Just got back from Remus Siegel’s place,” Logan said, scratching at the back of his neck. “He’s the guy who the butler owed all that money to… And, over the course of the last few months, the butler told Remus’s goons that he- the butler, I mean- was your father.”

“Patton?” Remy dropped his arms. 

“Yeah,” Logan nodded.

“Patton’s my father?” Remy said, stepping back again.

“I’m awful sorry you had to find out this way. I really thought you knew already, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept trying to slap you like that,” Logan tried.

Remy took another step back, “Patton… my father.” Remy looked up at Logan, “So that night, at the club, when he was so sad and distraught… it was over me?”

“That’s the looks of it,” Logan said.

“All this time, I’ve never known the love of a father. Just the coldness of one. But now we’ve been given this chance to start anew. You’ve given me a gift, Mr Nickels!” Remy exclaimed.

“Don’t mention it,” Logan said right before Remy surprised him with a hug.

Remy let go before saying, “Oh, the things we’ll do! Think of it! A whole lifetime to catch up on! Poor Father, what he must have gone through. Suffering every day, just to watch over me and make sure I was brought up right. Well, no more suffering, Father!”

“Logan, is that you?”

Logan turned to see the two officers, Seth and Toby, approaching, “Hope you haven’t come to arrest me again.”

“Nah, you’re off the hook, Logan, in light of recent developments,” Toby said.

“We found that Butler you been lookin’ for,” Seth added.

Remy moved in front of Logan in excitement, “Patton? You found him?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Seth said.

“Where is he?” Logan asked.

“Mostly off Laurel Canyon Blvd, just north of Mulholland,” Toby said.

Seth added, “But his brains are sorta scattered all over.”

Remy took a step back, bumping into Logan as he said in shock, “You mean, he’s… he’s…”

“Deader’n a doornail,” Toby confirmed.

“Brains all scattered,” Seth added.

“All over,” Toby said.

There was a brief pause before there was a loud screech and Remy collapsed on the ground between the officers and Logan, sobbing. “What got into him?” Seth asked.

“Look, fellas, you picked a really bad time for this,” Logan said, completely unsure of what to do next. 

“Look, come with us, Logan,” Toby said. Logan turned and saw Magenta waking up, rubbing his head and nodded down at the crying Remy before leaving with the officers.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The three arrived off the edge of Laurel Canyon cliff where a car was sitting on top of the deceased butler. “There he is,” Toby said.

“Still dead,” Seth commented.

“This all seems strangely familiar,” Logan muttered looking the car over. He looked over at the officers, “Killed by a ‘41 Merc Coupe. The same car I saw on the night of the murder. You find him like this?”

“Yeah,” Seth confirmed.

Logan looked over at the scene and back at the officers, “I thought you said on the way here that this was a suicide.”

“He drove off the cliff, Logan,” Seth said with an eye roll.

Toby gestured at the scene, “There he is, and there’s the car. What else do you need?”

Logan paused as he rubbed his eyes before shouting, “He’s under the car, Toby! A guy doesn’t have an accident, fall out of the car and have it roll over him!”

“This one did! We got proof!” Toby defended.

“Yeah, the Butler left a suicide note with all the details,” Seth added.

“That’s how come you’re no longer a suspect.”

“It’s all Jake.”

“He spells the whole thing out.”

“From A to Zed.”

Seth handed a note on yellow paper over to Logan who unfolded and began to read the extravagant writing, “‘ _ Dear world, I’m killing myself because I can’t live with the guilt any longer. It was I who killed Lord Clairmont and his son, Brian, for the diamond. Don’t bother looking for the diamond, however, as I’ve hidden it someplace where you’ll never ever find it, so you should give up completely any attempt to recover said diamond. And if, by chance, you discover any other murders in the course of looking for the diamond, I committed those too. Goodbye, cruel world, sincerely, Patton Wilson. _ ’”

“And that’s that,” Seth said.

“Clears up a lot,” Toby added.

Logan looked up at them with a raised eyebrow, “You really think he wrote this note?”

“Why not?” Seth asked, slightly confused.

“It’s got his John Hancock right there,” Toby pointed at the elaborate signature.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think a sixty-year-old man would dot the ‘i’s on his suicide note with little hearts,” Logan snapped the note around to show them.

“He’s English,” Seth defended.

“A guy crazy enough to kill himself is likely to do all sorts of crazy stuff,” Toby said.

“And it makes our job easier since we no longer have to look for that diamond,” Seth added.

“That thing could be anywhere!”

“Case closed!”

The two gave each other an excited high five, then noticed that Logan had started to walk away. Toby called out, “Hey, where you goin’?”

“To look for the killer!” Logan snapped back.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“So glad you could drop by!” Logan walked into his office to find Talyn with gloves on their hands pouring over papers covering their desk and test tubes filled with dark red liquid.

“Hello, looks like the case just got a little murkier,” Logan said, hanging his hat on the coat stand.

“You mean Patton?” Talyn asked.

“The butler was just,” Logan stopped and looked over at his assistant, “Yeah…”

“I just got back myself,” Talyn said. “My source in the LAPD called a couple of hours ago, so I went to the scene dressed as a cub reporter. That’s how I got the Merc coupe’s steering wheel.” They tapped the steering wheel leaning against the desk with their foot. They then removed one of their gloves and picked up an item on the desk and tossed it to Logan, “Oh, and you can have the watch back. I got the blood type off of it, and it’s the same as some residual blood I found on Lord Clairmont’s dress. You know the LAPD didn’t even notice the blood on his coat wasn’t his own? Sloppy, sloppy.”

Logan dropped the watch in his pocket just as the phone rang. He answered, beating Talyn to the phone, “Nickels.”

“Logan!” Roman’s voice crackled across the line. “It’s me, Roman! I went to see Emilie!”

“Roman!” Logan hissed. “What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?”

“Oh, Logan, you’re right! I don’t know what I was thinking!” Roman said. “I went to see Emilie to apologize and his men grabbed me and tied me up. They took me upstairs, but I was able to break loose.”

“Where are you?” Logan asked.

“I’m outside. I’m at the phone booth in the alley behind Emilie’s, opposite Dina’s Junk Shop.”

“Hold tight, I’m on my way,” Logan started to put down the phone when he heard a gasp.

“Logan, someone’s coming! I can hear him. He sounds awful! I think he might be holding a loaded gun!”

“Roman, you need to run,” Logan demanded.

Roman continued, “Who are you? What do you want? What are you doing?”

“Roman,” Logan said, trying to get Roman’s attention again.

“What is that in your hand! It looks deadly,” Roman gasped again.

“Roman,” Logan tried again. There is a loud scream before the phone suddenly disconnected. Not a second later, Logan rushed out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

In a dark alley, there was only the sound of chewing gum as two men stood waiting. One suddenly spoke up, “Hey, Virgil.”

The other man blew a bubble, answering once it popped, “Yeah, Thomas?”

“So you figure them Dodgers can take the pennant?” Thomas asked.

“How should I know?” Virgil demanded.

“I don’t know. I just figured since you ran numbers you had the inside scoop,” Thomas said.

Virgil snorted, “You was mistaken.”

There is another long pause before Thomas spoke up again, “Hey, Virgil.”

“What?” Virgil says before blowing another bubble.

“You know that doughnut shop down on Melrose and…” Thomas pauses for a second before finishing, “Fairfax?”

“Stan’s?” Virgil clarified.

“Yeah, Stan’s. Well I was down there on Tuesday and, get this. They added a new donut with the sprinkles on it. It’s new and it’s got sprinkles.”

“So it’s got sprinkles,” Virgil clarified.

“That gives ‘em six,” Thomas continued. “Six different kinds o’ doughnuts. One more. Just one more is all they need.”

There was a pause before Virgil finally asked, “For what?”

“Huh?”

“For what? The doughnuts. All they need for what?”

“Oh!” Thomas said. “For seven. That’ll give ‘em seven donuts, Virgil. That means you can go there every day, all week long, and you’ll have a different donut every day. Only they ain’t open Sundays, so I guess it would carry into next week. Not bad, huh?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “What are you getting excited for?”

“I ain’t excited,” Thomas said.

Virgil sighed, “Why we out here anyway?”

“‘Cause the Boss says so, Virgil,” Thomas said.

“Applesauce,” Virgil groaned, spitting out his gum.

“It’s true,” Thomas insisted.

“When’d you talk to the Boss? He’s been in Catalina all day,” Virgil argued.

“He sent a wire,” Thomas explained.

“A wire? I don’t remember hearin’ about no…” Virgil stopped when the sound of footsteps emerged. He grinned as Logan emerged from the shadows of the alleyway, “Well, well! Things are lookin’ up, ain’t they, Thomas? It’s Logan Nickels arrivin’ just in time like he was Sandy Claus himself!”

“Logan, you know you shouldn’t o’ come back here,” Thomas said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want any trouble, Thomas. Give me Roman and I’ll be on my way,” Logan said.

“We ain’t got him,” Virgil said. 

“Nah,” Thomas said in agreement.

“But we do got you, though, so the evening hasn’t been a total loss,” Virgil continued.

“Where is he?” Logan demanded. 

Thomas seemed to deflate, “Roman ain’t here, Logan.”

“Telling ya, we ain’t seen that one in days. Not since you got on Emilie’s bad side by icing that kid without his permission,” Virgil added.

Thomas walked towards Logan, “Let’s go, Logan.”

“Back off!” Logan snapped. “I’ve had enough of getting pushed around by the likes of you!”

“Yeah, well, we’re gonna keep pushin’ so you might want to come to terms with your situation,” Virgil yelled back. He pulled out his gun and shouted, “Get ‘im, Thomas!”

Thomas sighed, “I hate to do this, Logan.” Thomas started swinging, Logan desperately ducking, still taking a strong hit to the stomach, dropping and rolling away. Logan scrambled back to his feet, skirting around Thomas’s hits. He swinged, clocking Thomas right in the jaw. Thomas touched his jaw, looking up at Logan who had frozen in shock that he landed a hit with a smile, “Good one.” He then punched Logan in the jaw, knocking him down. 

Logan hit the ground hard, crying out, “Hold it! Hold it, please!”

Thomas backs off, but Virgil spoke up, “What are you doin’, Thomas? He’s just standin’ there for cryin’ out loud! Mix it up a little!”

Thomas turned to his partner with a sigh, “He asked nice-”

“Watch it, Thomas!” Virgil shouted, just a second before Logan, who had stood back up, threw his coat over Thomas and shoved him towards Virgil, whose gun went off and then went skittering when he dropped it, catching Thomas. Thomas dropped to the ground as Virgil fell over from the extra weight. Virgil turned looking for the gun, spotting it just as Logan picked it up. He gave the standing man a weak smile right before Logan picked him to his feet by his hair and slammed him into the nearby wall, falling to the ground unconscious. 

With one thug out, Logan turned to Thomas, who was still on the ground, clutching his arm, “I got shot! Jeepers, that smarts!”

Logan sighed, crouching next to Thomas, “Let me see it.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, tying it just above the bullethole. “How’s that? Snug?”

“Better, I guess,” Thomas gasped. “Kinda tingly.”

“Did you get hit anywhere else?” Logan asked.

Thomas shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Good. Then this shouldn’t do any permanent damage,” Logan gave him a couple of hard hits to the jaw.

Thomas lifted his uninjured hand and rubbed at the sore part of his jaw, “I deserved that.”

“What say you, me, and your pulpy arm have a little chat?” Logan asked.

“Sure, Logan,” Thomas groaned. “I feel real bad about what happened. I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.”

“First, where’s Roman?” Logan demanded.

“He got away, Logan,” Thomas muttered, looking away.

“From a couple a guys like yourselves?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

Thomas looked back up at Logan, “He’s very resourceful. You should know that.”

“Who hired you to grab him?” Logan asked.

Thomas laughed, “You know we work for Em…”

“Don’t give me that!” Logan shouted. “The Clairmont case is closed, so why the ‘hit’ job?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Thomas denied.

Logan snarled, punching Thomas again, “Tell me!”

Thomas lifted a hand to his head, blinking, “Okay! Okay! I got another boss!”

“Remus?” Logan asked.

“Nah, not for this. Not Remus. I… It’s… I just can’t Logan!”

“We’re going to stay here all night until you fess up,” Logan clenched his fist again.

Thomas lifted his free hand, “I got the jitters, Logan. I never wanted to hurt nobody too bad, ya know? But I was told to do one bad thing, and then another and then… I can’t.”

Logan faltered, “Can’t what? What can’t you do?”

“I can’t tell ya,” Thomas shouted, before coughing. “I want to, but I can’t. I’ll get killed, and I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

Logan’s head jerked up as he heard sirens start coming in the distance. He looked back down at the frightened thug, “Well, you’re getting’ killed either way, Thomas, so you might as well come clean.”

Thomas’s breathing was starting to become heavy and he coughed as he kept trying to talk, “The butler… Logan… I know the papers said he done himself in, but I can tell ya… it wasn’t no suicide. That was my car, Logan… I did it… I didn’t do those other murders though! I swear I didn’t… And I didn’t want to do this one… but I had no choice!” 

Logan’s eyes widened as Thomas was starting to fade, shouting, “Who made you do it, Thomas? Who are you working for?”

Thomas started to lift a hand, but it dropped as he finally passed out. Logan leaned back on his heels, rubbing his face as the sirens got louder. A voice spoke up behind him, “Logan!”

Logan jumped to his feet and turned around to see Roman standing there surveying the scene around them. Logan ran over to him, “Roman, are you all right?”

“I’m good. I heard the shot. Were you hurt?” Roman said, grabbing Logan’s arms.

“Naw, I got out fine,” Logan said.

“Thomas! Is he dead?” Roman leaned around Logan to look at the thug.

“No, just sleepin’,” Logan said.

A grimace crossed Roman’s face before he looked up at Logan, eyes wide, “Did he do it, Logan? Was he the killer this whole time?”

Logan shook his head, “No. He’s just the button man.”

Roman blinked, “He hurts people for money?”

“And now I gotta find whoever’s paying his rent,” Logan sighed.

He is almost thrown off balance as Roman threw his arms around him, “All this killing! It’s so awful!”

“It’s okay,” Logan said, noting the louder sirens. “What say we keep this conversation going at my place?”

Roman grinned, “Let’s amscray.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roman walked out of Logan’s kitchen, carrying two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, “Can I fix you a drink?”

Logan nodded, but said, “Listen, Roman, I’ve talked to a lot of people over the last twenty-four hours and I got a couple questions that need answering.”

Roman laughed, “My my! We’re all business. I’ll bite. Who’d you talk to that got you all hot and bothered?”

“Remy Clairmont, for one,” Logan said, watching Roman.

Roman stiffened slightly, “That young Clairmont boy? Why, Logan, I’m liable to get jealous. What does he have that I don’t?”

“An alibi,” Logan stated plainly. 

Roman turned around, holding the two glasses, “Oh, Logan, you and your monkey-shines! I knew it the minute I laid eyes on you! Beware this Logan Nickels, I said to myself, he’s a joker, this one is. A regular Danny Kaye. Daffy Duck’s got nothing on Mr. Logan Nick…”

“Oh, you’re good!” Logan snapped, cutting Roman off. “You got more change-ups than Satchel Paige.”

“And what have I done except come to you for help?” Roman snapped back, slamming the glasses back unto the table. “Is it my fault that Remy Clairmont and that butler had just broken off a torrid love affair the night of Lord Clairmont’s murder? Oops!”

Logan sighed, “There was no love affair, Roman, and you know it.” He sat down on his couch as he watched Roman pick up a piece of paper and start to fold it, “The butler was Remy Clairmont’s real father, but he was never able to tell him. Even after several drinks there are some things that are so tough to say to a person, a fella’ll break his own heart to pieces rather than say it.”

“I hope I’m never alone like that butler,” Roman said. 

“Don’t we all,” Logan sighed. 

“I hope I can rely on you, Logan,” Roman turned back to Logan, still folding his paper carefully. “I know you think I’m being silly, and I’m sure you don’t believe me. I would imagine you don’t believe a word I say, ever, but there have been people in my life - friends and family - who have believed what I was saying at one time or another and I hope you’d be included in that group. I do. I really do.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, but looking down at the creature Roman had created, “What is that you’re working on there, Roman?”

“Some cranes!” Roman said, his voice rising in excitement. “Some origami cranes. I thought they would look really nice right next to this vase. This beautiful vase, right here!” Roman went to put the crane down next to the vase, but his hand hit the vase which was sitting extremely close to the edge and it fell and shattered. Roman screamed, “I’m so frightened! I’ve been like this for days. You have to help me!”

Logan put his arms down around Roman awkwardly as Roman threw himself down onto the couch next to him, “Take it easy.”

“So many people have been hurt and/or killed,” Roman sobbed. “I have Emilie’s people after me, and the police, and now I’m afraid even you’ve got me pegged as a killer.”

“I’m on your side. You just have to trust me,” Logan said.

Roman pushed himself up, his face dry, “I love you, Logan. I could trust you better if you’d tell me you loved me.”

Logan pulled himself away from Roman, “I can’t do that. I’ve been hurt too much. I can’t take that chance.”

“I don’t blame you,” Roman sighed. “I too have known hurt.” He stops then asks, “Why do you do it, Logan?”

“Do what?” Logan asked.

Roman stood up, grabbing Logan’s drink and pushing it into Logan’s hand as he sat back down next to him, “Risk your neck for people who usually wind up getting killed anyway.”

“You ever work in the oil business?” Logan asked.

“The oil business?” Roman asked, confused.

“You ever see what an oil well does to a man who mistakenly sticks his head over the gushcap of a clogged drill?” Logan asked, staring down into his drink. Roman shook his head and after a minute, Logan continued, “I spent eleven years working as an oil executive. A real big-shot. It’s the only business in the world where you have a million dollars laying at your feet and if you have the sense to lean over and pick it up? Then you’re some kind of genius. That is until one day after a typical three-martini lunch, a nineteen-year-old intern asks if he can see what’s wrong with a clogged drill and you tell him, ‘Sure kid, knock yourself out. Just don’t stick your head over the gush cap.’ Seems the kid didn’t hear that last part. They shut down production for two hours while they searched L.A. county for his head. When it turned up at a church picnic in San Pedro, the pumps started up again as if nothing had happened.”

Logan looked up to see Roman’s wide eyes. Looking back down at his drink, he continued, “So I put a shingle on the door that reads Private Detective. So maybe the pay’s not as good as it once was and maybe I am a little late some of the time and my clients keep getting killed, but I’ll tell you one thing: at least I can sleep at night.” 

Logan downed his drink as Roman quietly said, “You know if you aren’t careful, someone could get the idea that you’re a pretty swell Joe.”

Logan laughed as he handed his glass back to Roman, “I guess I’ll have to take that chance.” Logan started to stand up, but fell back to the couch, lifting a hand to his dizzy head.

“What’s wrong, Logan?” Roman asked.

“Nothin’... I just got a headache is all,” Logan groaned. 

“It must be all the excitement,” Roman suggested, standing up.

“Sure. Maybe if I just take a load off,” Logan said, right before falling over unto the couch.

Roman stood there, poking at Logan, “Logan?” After a minute, he put down Logan’s glass, pulling a note out of his pocket and pressing it into Logan’s hand, before navigating around the shattered ceramic on the floor and leaving the apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

Logan woke up to a ringing telephone. He ignored it as it went silent as he rubbed his pounding head. He noted the note pressed in his hand, reading what Roman had written him on the back of a worn receipt, talking about how he loved him and didn’t know when they would see each other again. What bugged him was the little hearts over the ‘I’, especially in his name. He started to get up to leave, but the telephone started ringing again. “Nickels,” he said answering. He could barely hear the gruff voice on the other end, but it gave him a simple address. “111 South Grand?” Logan questioned. “That’s on Bunker Hill. Hello?” He put down the telephone as he realized it had gone dead. Bunker Hill, the one place he tried to avoid. His last seven partners as a private detective had been shot to death. All of them on Bunker Hill. Logan collected himself as he left, leaving behind his coat and hat.

The house’s front door was open, a song playing from a turntable. Logan pulled his gun, prepared as he made his way inside. The room was a mess, a blood trail leading to a fallen body that looked far too familiar.

“Hiya, Logan,” he jumped as a figure he previously hadn’t noticed spoke up from the opposite corner of the room. Logan turned to see Virgil sitting in an old chair, one hand clenched with something in his fist, eyes locked on the body of his former partner. He slowly turned his head towards Logan, focusing on the gun in his hands, as he slowly continued, “Why so jumpy, Nickels? He ain’t gonna hurt ya. Not now.”

“Virgil Lumpkus,” Logan sighed, putting away his gun. “Were you in on this?”

“I didn’t do nothin’!” Virgil snapped. “He was late to work today, and if there’s one thing you can say about Thomas Sanders, it’s that he’s punctual. Ever since that Okie came out here, there ain’t a lunch date, a meetin’ or an orientation he’s been five minutes late for. ‘Virgil,’ he’d say, ‘You should always treat someone else’s time as valuable as you treat your own.’ So I knew… I knew when he was late to work for the first time in ten years he was probably dead.”

“Why’d you call me out here?” Logan questioned him.

“It ain’t right to let your partner get rubbed out without who done it gettin’ what’s theirs!” Virgil shouted, before rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“How do you know I didn’t do it?” Logan quietly asked.

Virgil snorted, “If you wanted Thomas nixed, you woulda put him on ice last night.”

“Thomas worked for Remus. Maybe Thomas gets a taste for diamonds, and Remus gets wise to Thomas and has him silenced,” Logan suggested.

Virgil smirked, “I don’t think Remus’s in the position to be makin’ executive decisions about nobody.”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked.

“Didn’t ya hear?” Virgil asked, pointing at an ear with his unclenched hand, “Remus Siegel was found dead this mornin’. I guess someone decided he wasn’t cut out for hotel management.”

“Sometimes bad things happen to bad people,” Logan sighed.

“Besides, Thomas wasn’t lookin’ for rocks. He couldn’t find a clown at a circus,” Virgil sighed.

“He must have found something,” Logan argued. “A bear doesn’t get stung unless he’s found some honey.”

Virgil snapped again, “Thomas followed orders. He don’t dance unless the bandleader gives him an 8-count.”

“And Emilie’s the bandleader,” Logan pointed out. “He plays both of you like a french horn.”

“And Emilie’s in Catalina,” Virgil snarled. “I would’ve known if he sent over any sheet music.”

Logan sighed, running out of ideas, “Maybe he was killed in a robbery gone bad.”

Virgil snorted again, “Anyone who hit this place is the only crook who don’t like to steal money or possessions, ‘cause nothin’s been touched. Not his wallet, not his collection o’ ducks. Nothin’. Not even his watch.”

Logan frowned, “Watch, what watch?”

Virgil unclenched his fist revealing a familiar-looking watch, “This one.”

Logan took it, glancing from it to the one he was wearing. He turned it over, reading the back, “‘Geneva Brothers.’ Wait a minute… I had a note written to me on the back of a receipt just the other day that read…” Logan pulled his note out of his pocket, flipping it over as he read the front. He froze, before stuffing both the note and the watch into his pocket and running out the door.

“Hey!” Virgil protested, starting to run after him, but stopping at the front door. “Where are you goin’, Logan Nickels?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Logan stopped at a phone booth when he reached the neighbourhood he was heading for. He quickly dialled a number, “Talyn? It’s Nickels.”

“Logan!” Talyn’s voice crackled over the other end. “I’m glad you called!”

“Did you get any results?” Logan asked.

“I cross-checked the fingerprints and blood type on the watch with the security records from Emilie’s,” Talyn started. “You know how Emilie’s has the strictest background checks in town on account of all the murders they keep havin’?”

“Yeah,” Logan muttered.

“Anyway, I got the results,” Talyn said.

“And?” Logan said, face already dark.

“You ain’t gonna like it, Logan,” Talyn said as a train started passing nearby. “The murderer of Lord Clairmont is…”


	10. Chapter 10

The front door was unlocked, so Logan let himself into the apartment address that Talyn provided him. The man in front of him dropped his suitcase in shock, his coat still loose. Roman cracked a nervous smile, “Logan!”

Logan just stared at him, slowly dropping his gaze to the unlocked suitcase, “Going somewhere, Roman?”

“Um, no,” Roman tried. “I always keep that there.”

“Strange. Why’s that?” Logan asked.

“Earthquakes!” Roman said far too quickly.

Logan nodded, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, “If you were waiting for a cab to take you to the train station, you can forget it. One pulled up in front of the building and I told him to take a powder.”

Roman burst out laughing, “Oh, Logan! Your sense of humour has such a way of putting one at ease! I’ve been on edge all day. The police were here and I didn’t know what to think. It’s that boy across the way. He hates me, you know. I’m sure you’ve noticed so many people hate me. Listen to me, being so pitiful. I know I’ve been so troublesome, I don’t know how you can stand it.” Logan pulled a watch out of his pocket, tossing it on the coffee table. Roman stared at it for a moment before asking, “What’s this?”

“Oh, just a little something I picked up at Nelson’s,” Logan said.

“A gift, Logan? I’m surprised at you, I never figured you for the type who…”  
Logan cut him off, grabbing his wrist that was reaching for the watch, “Now, cut the rhubarb! That’s your watch and you know it.”

Roman’s eyes widened, “Whatever do you…”

“I found that in Echo Park,” Logan explained. “The night after Lord Clairmont was killed. It’s got more of your fingerprints on it than a… Well, it has a lot of fingerprints.”

Roman barked out a laugh, “That’s imposs…”

Logan cut him off, “And wrist prints. Bloodstains too that match your type. I also noticed this.” Logan pulled out the note Roman had left him, “This little memo you passed me the other day happened to be a receipt from Nelson’s. Fella at the place says he sold a pair of watches to a boy. He couldn’t remember what colour his hair was, but he knew trouble when he saw it.”

Roman laughed, “Why, Logan, are you going to take the word of some boy?”

“How’d you know it was a boy, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman furrowed his brow, “But… You just said…”

“And if that wasn’t enough, you left this note.” Logan pulled out another piece of paper, reading it, “‘Thanks for the watch, Billy. It’s perfect to wear while committing a murder. Love, Roman.’”

“But, Logan, I’ve never heard of this Billy person in my life!” Roman said.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Roman,” Logan snarled. “It makes your neck look fat.”

Roman gasped, lifting a hand to his neck before saying, “All right, I admit it! I bought the watch, but I never killed Lord Dee! You’ve got to listen to me. I know I’m not perfect, I know I’m a liar. I’ll always be a liar. I lie about everything, all the time, constantly. I lie so much, even I don’t know when I’m telling the truth. But regardless of my extensive past history of lying, and of the many lies I will tell in the future, you have to believe me this one time when I tell you I had nothing to do with the tragic shooting of Lord Clairmont.”

“How’d you know he was shot?” Logan asked.

Roman stammered, “I- I didn’t! I guess it!” Roman gasped, “Oh, I’m just frightened. I'm so afraid of what those policemen will do to me if they were to think I was the one responsible for that ghastly murder!”

Logan groaned and slapped him, “Stop it!”

Roman gasped and turned back to him with a steely gaze, slapping Logan back. Logan growled and stomped on one of Roman’s feet. Roman jumped backwards grabbing behind him at a glass, throwing the contents in Logan’s face. Logan wiped the liquid out of his eyes and stomped forward, grabbing Roman by the shoulders before kissing him. Roman sighed, whispering, “I love you, Logan.”

Logan dropped his hands from Roman before saying, “That’s too bad, ‘cause I’m turning you in.”

Roman’s face dropped to intense anger as he snarled, “What?”

“You heard me,” Logan said. “You better notify your newspaper boy to cut off your subscription, because you’re goin’ away for a long time.”

“I thought you loved me!” Roman shouted.

“I never said that,” Logan pointed out.

“Oh, you talk big, Logan Nickels, but you don’t have a thing on me,” Roman snapped.

“I’ve got evidence that’ll connect you to all four of the Bengal Diamond killings. That oughta do the trick,” Logan said with a smirk.

“What evidence could you possibly have?” Roman scoffed.

“I’d love to go into it with you, Roman, but I’m afraid the police will be here in five minutes and I hate telling the same story twice,” Logan said.

“But I was with you when the Clairmont boy was killed,” Roman started, desperately. “You know full well I was working when Lord Clairmont was shot and thrown over the bridge. The butler was killed by a falling car, and you know I can’t drive. And I don’t know how to operate a sniper’s rifle, so I couldn’t have killed Remus Siegel…”

“Wait a minute!” Logan cut him off. “Who said you killed Remus Siegel?”

Roman gaped, “I… You said… I’d assumed… So many accusations! I love you, Logan! You have to believe me.”

Logan turned away with a sigh, “I want to, but someone like you can open a man’s heart like the tin lid on a can of peaches. Then you reach in and rip the heart out like you would the peaches inside the can, and stick it in a pan filled with pie crust, and ask everyone to dig in. Well, you can take your home style cookin’ somewhere else, cause I’ve had just about all the broken heart pie I can take.”

Logan turned back towards her, stopping as he realized Roman had opened the suitcase and now had a gun pointed directly at him. With the edge of steel in his voice clear, Roman snarled, “Don’t move a muscle.”

Logan, very still, said, “Just like a killer.”

“It didn’t have to be this way,” Roman said, taking a step towards him.

The edge of Logan’s mouth quirked up, “Didn’t it? What did you think would happen when you got it into that sweet little head of yours to kill Lord Clairmont.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roman hissed.

“You’ve got to do better than that when you explain things to the police,” Logan said, calmly. “Maybe you didn’t kill her for the diamond. Maybe you killed the old lady because you felt sorry for Patton. A sort of consolation prize for psychotics.”

Roman barked out a laugh, “You’ve wasted your talents as a P.I. Logan. Think of the great novelettes which could be on display in airport lavatories around the world had you the guts to put pen to paper.”

Logan continued, “After the butler was too yellow to kill his employer, and you had to do it yourself, Brian Clairmont saw you running from the scene of the crime. That led you to murder number two.”

Roman’s hand was starting to shake, “I was wrong about your penchant for fiction. You’d never cut it. You’re unfit to write billboard copy for Burma-Shave.”

“Thomas saw what you did to Brian, but that wasn’t a problem,” Logan continued. “He’s been in love with you since he knew you back in Oklahoma and would do anything to protect you - like when you ordered him to kill Patton Wilson.”

“Your gears are slippin’. You’re infringing on the incoherent scribblings of the mentally ill,” Roman tried.

“Then you tried to use Thomas in an ambush to knock me off, but I was better at disarming him than you anticipated. That bit of weakness spelt the end for poor Thomas when you shot him yourself this morning. You just forgot his partner was also there,” Logan said.

Roman growled, “I was a fool to believe you loved me.”

Logan sighed, “That makes two of us.”

“Oh, Logan,” Roman cried, dramatic again. “These cheap shots of yours hit me harder than any indictment or any Grand Jury. They can give me the gas chamber, but they can’t hurt me like you have, because you’ve already gassed my heart, Logan! My heart, oops!” In stepping forward, Roman had knocked the suitcase around so Logan could see the insides. Something red and shiny was peeking out from under a scarf. 

Logan stepped forward, keeping an eye on Roman who had stumbled backwards, pulling the scarf back, revealing a shiny stone he had last seen on a mantel in a mansion. “Say, what’s this? Is this your wounded heart I see, or is it a 300 karat diamond?”

“It’s not how it looks?” Roman tried, but Logan could see he had run out of lies.

Logan sighed, standing back up, “I hope it was worth it, Roman.”

Roman looked up at him for a moment, before raising his gun again, “That diamond belongs to me now! I’ve earned it!”

“That diamond belongs in a museum!” Logan snapped back.

Suddenly, there was knocking at the door, “Open up! It’s the police!”

Roman gasped as Logan said, “It’s over, Roman. Put the gun down.”

“It’s us, Logan! Let us in!” the familiar voice of Seth rang out.

Logan called back, “I’d love to oblige, fellas, but I’ve got a .38 suggesting otherwise. Give up, Roman. You had your fun, but it’s over.”

“Logan, how could you?” Roman demanded as the police knocked again.

“I’ve been with those who killed people for self-defence, revenge, and even personal satisfaction - but I could stomach someone who killed over money. It just doesn’t sit right with me,” Logan said.

More knocking. Toby’s voice rang out, “You got three seconds, or we’re bustin’ the door down.”

“Cool it, fellas! Let me handle this!” Logan shouted.

“You open that door, and I swear I’ll kill him!” Roman shouted.

“It’s not worth it, Roman. You’re gonna get yourself killed,” Logan tried.

“You better clear out, Logan! We’re coming in there!” Seth’s voice rang out.

“Three!”

“Put the gun down, Roman!” Logan said, trying desperately at this point to get Roman to see since.

“I ain’t goin’ to Fulsom, Logan!” Roman snapped. “No one sends Roman Livingston up the river!”

“Two!”

Roman shouted again, “You make one move through that door and Nickels is a dead man, you hear me? Dead!”

“Roman, you’ve got to listen to me!” Logan begged.

“I’m not goin’ down,” Roman growled.

“You can’t do this,” Logan said.

“How hard can it be?” Roman said with a maniacal laugh. “I just pull the trigger and it’s lights out, tough guy!”

“One!”

“Would you bums lay off! You’re gonna get us all killed!” Logan shouted.

“I’m takin’ you all with me, you hear?” Roman added, waving his gun for emphasis.

“I got something important I gotta tell you, Roman,” Logan said, desperation finally leaking through.

Roman smirked, “We’re runnin’ out of time, so it better be a last request.”

“I love you, Roman,” Logan said.

Roman’s eyes widened as he lowered the gun and it was silent for a brief second. Then the door burst open. Roman in a split second ran past Logan, pointing his gun at the entering cops. They both shoot. Roman misses, but the bullet aimed at him doesn’t. Roman stumbles backwards and Logan catches him, both of them falling. The cops stop as blood leaks onto Roman’s shirt and Logan asks, “Roman, why’d you do that?”

Roman smirks, “Ain’t no one gonna put me away. Not now. Not ever. Logan, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Logan stammered as Roman looked up at him in annoyance, “Oh… sorry.”

“What you said back there. Did you mean it?” Roman asked. “Or were you just saying that to keep me from sending you a hot lead telegram.”

“I meant it,” Logan promised.

Roman smiled, “I hope you’re not too mad at me, for what I did. I feel awful bad for killin’ all those people, and for tryin’ to kill you at least a couple of times.” Roman coughed again, “You know, I wanted to do good. Truly. And I would have, but who had time these days. If only…” 


End file.
